


Unholy Union

by Conduitstreetcat, TheGreenFaerie



Series: Symbiotic Criminal Psychopaths [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Feels, Fighting, Fucking, M/M, Power Play, Psychological Drama, Recreational Drug Use, Sex In A Plane, Whipping, mormor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 22:12:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 53,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14923773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conduitstreetcat/pseuds/Conduitstreetcat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreenFaerie/pseuds/TheGreenFaerie
Summary: This is the second Book in the Symbiotic Criminal Psychopaths series. The first book, Kiss or Kill, can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14583459/chapters/33701808It's recommended that you read them in order as it's a continuous story, but you do what you like - you rebel, you.Jim has turned up alive and well a year after Sebastian thought he'd committed suicide. Needless to say, there are some hard feelings. Can our heroes work out who they are, were, and want to be, without killing each other in the process?For some music that inspired us while writing: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3horqJ4nAFSnakeug4JA2QSpecific chapters have the songs that apply to them in the notes. The playlist is in order.





	1. The Grand Tour of the Fucking Cellar

_"Those whom we have joined together let no man put asunder."_

_Then I grin: "I'd like to see them try." Your fierce smirk in response leaves nothing to the imagination about exactly how anyone attempting to put us asunder would end, regardless of gender._

_"Now I know you're keen to get to the consummation, but there hasn't been that much talking yet. And quite a bit of revelation. So... from my side, what I'm most keen to know is why you were dead inside for years, called yourself empty, a shell? Why did you think I'd have no use for a broken assassin? Broken how? Why did you want to kill yourself, apart from me being dead? We'll get to that bit too, don't worry."_

 

 

I lean back against the couch and sigh.

"Jim... you know I love you more than life itself... but could we just have a few minutes before diving into the mess of my psyche? I know your mind is hungry for knowledge," I say and lightly caress your face. "...and I swear I'll tell you everything you want to know, as best I can. But dredging up the childhood stuff- would really put a damper on how I'm feeling right now. As for why you wouldn't want a broken assassin..." I look at you and burst out laughing. "Oh, I don't know! You weren't exactly forgiving of 'weakness' up until now... If I made a bloody mistake, you weren't what I would call _understanding_... You'd take it out on my hide if you even caught a whiff of emotions - you enjoyed it! You know you did! So now I'm supposed to do a complete 180, and give you the grand tour of what's in the fucking cellar? How long before it gets turned against me?"

I realize I'm yelling, and I stop abruptly and cover my face with my hands. " _Fuck_...This is why I didn't want to do this... if I'm talking about my goddamned feelings, I can't go five minutes without shouting at you. Sorry...fuck." I sigh heavily, cross my arms and stare at the wall.

_"Oh. I didn't know it was childhood stuff. And - I may have phrased it wrong. What I meant was - I don't immediately want to go all 'tell me about your mother', but... I want to know who the man was who lived in my house. He seemed... full of life. Hedonistic, enthusiastic, ferocious; yes, twisted, you'd have to be to be my right-hand man, but you never seemed... empty... until last night. So what I really meant to ask was not so much what caused it, but how come I never saw this? And how were you feeling day to day while we were together?"_

_I see your face, exasperated._

_"I'm not giving up, Sebastian. I can be patient if I need be - not a trait you're well acquainted with, of course - and I *_ _will*_ _find out what I need to know. Look - it's like I've got this really amazing weapon, say a complex machine gun, but if I want to use it properly, I will need to read the manual, or I'll end up ignoring important bits, misusing other bits, not doing the right maintenance, and will end up breaking the weapon or hurting myself, or both. So I *_ _know*_ _you hate this, and I *_ _know*_ _you're resentful of me, but I'll not risk breaking my best weapon. I used to think it was much simpler than it was, but now I've unearthed the complex bits, I can't ignore them without significant risk."_

_Not my best metaphor, but one that should resonate with you, I hope..._

_"And I told you that you can say anything you like today. Nothing will be turned against you. I know it's hard to break a habit of years, but... I will not blame you for anything you say, I promise. And I will not bring it up later to torment or tease you, no matter how funny it might be."_

 

 

"Funny? Thanks, that really makes me want to open up..." I roll my eyes.

"Fine. So. You want to know why you never saw the emptiness. Are you sure? 'Cos you're not going to like the answer very much - you weren't fucking looking," I snap. "What was I to you other than a weapon, a shag, and a bit of creature comfort when things got rough? Did you want to know what lay beneath? Of course not. I didn't show you any of it because I knew you didn't want emotional entanglement in the first place. I only expressed things that were fun, or sexy, or challenging, or- god, this is making me sound like _such_ a prize..." I cover my eyes. "Words cannot express how much I hate this. Seriously, seriously _hate_..."

I snatch up the bottle of whisky lying abandoned on the carpet, and pour myself a glass.

"As for how I felt day to day... well. A balancing act between being completely high being in your presence, trying desperately to keep from being emotionally or physically annihilated, and being consumed by angst that you would never love me, and that I could never, ever express how I felt, or you would torture me or kill me for it." I smile brightly at you, and raise my glass. "Cheers," I say, throw it back, and hurl the glass at the wall where it shatters into tiny pieces. "How's that for funny?" I demand, glaring at you. Then despite everything, I start to laugh, really genuinely laugh, until tears come to my eyes.

 

_I'm... fuck. Well. You asked for it Moriarty._

_Your words cut, claw, and tear at my heart, but I register them impassively, parse them, try to process them. My brain starts whirring, spewing out observations, conclusions._

_Wait._

_Stop it Moriarty. You are doing *_ _exactly*_ _what you did wrong in the first place. You are trying to analyse Seb on your own. You *_ _obviously*_ _aren't able to do that. And he's *_ _right there with you*_ _. If you want to analyse things, involve him. This is what you do now. He's your... whatever. You've never had a whatever. You've never had a partner - you've never even had a friend. Because no one could get close to you, could they? And you're doing it again. You're thinking *_ _about*_ _him, not *_ _with*_ _him._

_Talk, Moriarty. It's what you wanted, isn't it? And for fuck's sake, stop him going mad._

_I reach out to you, hold your head between my hands, kiss your tears, until you calm down, lean back, look at me._

_I swallow. "You're right. I wasn't fucking looking. I was... wilfully blind. Because... well. I said before. I couldn't risk feelings. Not mine, not yours. So I... kept the feelings at bay. I told myself I knew what you were like, what you needed, and... I did, but I... sort of only allowed myself to see part of you, only the part that fit with what I wanted to see. I'm a master manipulator, as you know. Turns out I'm damn good at manipulating myself too." I chuckle mirthlessly, take a sip from my whiskey, offer the glass to you._

_"Would I have hurt you if you'd told me? I can't say. Depends. I mean - I don't think fucking Tuscany changed me *that* much, and I was fully my old cocky self when I walked in, and... you freaking out and saying you loved me and then walking out completely shattered me. But - I don't know. I might have laughed at you."_

_The thought makes my throat constrict, the image all too vivid in my mind's eye, of your hurt face with me laughing cruelly, and I want to fucking stab myself, I really do._

_"I was such a twat. Still am, probably. But not to you. Never again to you. My yours."_

 

 

Well- there's some more of that hideous monster Truth...

I throw my head back against the cushions, and groan loudly. "I knew it... I _fucking_ knew!! Why do you think I didn't say anything?? Jesus Christ... that would have _destroyed_ me..."

I stare up at the ceiling, cursing under my breath. "I'm... such an idiot. Really. For all of it... I didn't see- I couldn't see- I wasn't risking anything if I was throwing all my love at someone who was emotionally unavailable to that extreme. For all the angst I was putting myself through, my heart was safe in a fucked-up way because it couldn't get fucking _near_ you..."

I look up at you, and although you're listening intently and your face is calm, it seems like so much is roiling under the surface... a cocktail of fascination, guilt, and panic, would be my best guess. You don't make an intensive study out of someone for 4 years without having some insight into their inner workings... I guess I can see why you're becoming fixated on understanding me better, if you're worried about me getting hurt - by you or myself.

I sigh and reach my hand out to you, palm facing you, fingers outstretched. You take it tentatively, and our fingers interlace. I drop our clasped hands onto my thigh.

"Even though I still have a lot of built up resentment, clearly - for the last year, and how things were before that... it's dawning on me that I wasn't exactly a poor little lamb caught in the lair of the big bad wolf. I was a scary wolf myself, and I entered the lair of my own volition. Yeah, you did some cruel things... but I should take some fucking ownership for allowing it. My eyes were open about what I could expect from you. I just didn't think I deserved any better... Anyway, since I don't seem to be yelling at you for the moment, or smashing any crystal or china..." I smile wryly, "...I should say that- I _appreciate_ everything you're doing. I've been completely ignoring how hard this must be for you - my mine. And for that, I'm sorry. Also for all the broken dishes..." I look back up to the ceiling, grinning fiercely. "No, not even a little.. now _that_ was some funny shit..."

_Thank you. Thank you Seb for taking my hand and weaving your fingers in mine because I_ _so_ _need to touch you this moment. Just gentle touching. Just feeling close to you as I hear these words that ring so true._

_'Close to the bone' they say - again, another phrase I thought was a cliché until now. I'm learning so much about metaphors these days. It does feel like something is cutting inside me through blood vessels, muscles, nerves, reducing me to a bleeding wreck somehow held up by an intact skeleton and skin._

_"I don't *_ _know*! I don't know what I would have done. I was... I was different, I guess. I didn't have feelings, now I have, and it's hard to remember what life was like before them. I have to say, when I said I might have laughed, I wanted to punch myself. Or worse._

_I'm... when I think back on some of the things I did to you... so fucking *_ _many*_ _of the things I did to you... I feel... so incredibly guilty. And that's *_ _another*_ _thing I never had, thank you for that. Fucking hell._

 _I really wanted to kill you in that alley, you know. For making me *_ _feel*_ _. I *_ _swore*_ _I never would again. It's not who I am, who I want to be... wanted to be. I don't *_ _know*_ _! I don't know what to do any more."_

_Damn it, Moriarty, you were supposed to keep it together. I take a deep breath. "Got any more fags?"_

_I take the cigarette, light it, breathe the smoke into my lungs. It works, it calms down the raging torrent somewhat._

_"Anyway, I couldn't kill you, so I'll have to live with this... new state of mind. All these *_ _feelings*_ _. Love. Infatuation. Guilt. Fear. Desire. Loads of them, kept locked up for decennia, all of a sudden running havoc in my head and body - I'd say it's driving me insane, but..." I chuckle._

 _"And the same goes for you. You fell in love with an unattainable psychopath because you wouldn't have to deal with feelings. You could pine all you wanted, let yourself be completely invested, because the object of your devotion would never become a *_ _real*_ _human being, with human emotions you'd have to deal with. So I guess part of the reason you fell for me was *_ _because*_ _I didn't have feelings._

_I guess we're both becoming new men. I'm... coming down from abstract demon-level to... fallible emotional human being. And you are changing from perfect tool to imperfect person._

_Which is why I wanted that marriage ceremony, I guess. We're both going to be different, and we'll both have to get used to being who we are, as well as to who the other is becoming. That gives us a stable foundation on which to explore that – we know that we’re dedicated to each other no matter what, so we’ll hopefully feel safe to… be ourselves, and get to know each other.”_

 

 

"Yeah, you were a right bastard... a lot. But I chose to be there... no one had a gun to my head. Well... a knife to other parts of me, sometimes..." I chuckle, despite myself.

"It's bloody bizarre to laugh about it now. Less than 24 hours ago, we were facing each other down with guns in an alley. And now we're... yours and mine? Fucking mental..."

I squeeze your hand gently. "And you're right, we have some shit to figure out. And I... can't promise I'll be all calm and rational while we do, because that's pretty much the opposite of how I've been feeling. I hope that doesn't make things harder for you, Jim.."

I place my hand on the side of your face.

"I'm sorry it's so hard. It must be so disorienting. But speaking totally selfishly here, I for one am pretty fucking happy you started feeling again. It worked out for me; I got what I wanted... something I couldn't even let myself dream of..." I rest my head again on your shoulder, and just enjoy the sensation of my skin against yours.  
"Do you think once the dust is settled... and we're not in danger of imploding every 5 minutes... we could go away for a while?" I ask hesitantly. "Even for a weekend? Maybe it would be easier to figure out who we are, and who we're becoming, in a different environment. I just feel like going somewhere with sun and water and just _being_ with you for a while... eating and drinking and devouring your lips...and other parts of you..." I roll my eyes and sigh. "And _talking_ , of course... did I mention all the talking we'd be doing?"

I turn and plant a kiss gently on the sweet spot where your neck meets your shoulder, and my lips linger against your skin.

_"You are? Happy about me feeling? I mean... that's not the man you fell for." I suddenly am afraid I've made a mistake, pressing our union before we had a chance to get to know each other again._

 

 

Your tone makes me move my head to look up at you. I'm so not used to seeing fear in your eyes...

My heart melts, all resentment and anger forgotten.

"Do I look unhappy to you?" I shake my head at you, smiling. "As for the man I fell for - promise me you won't tell him, but he was a bit of an insufferable prick. What I felt for him isn't half of what I feel for the man in front of me - and I didn't promise myself to him - I promised myself to _you_." I gently draw your face closer, and press my mouth to yours. My lips moving against yours, I whisper, "My mine..."

 

 

_I enjoy the soft, sweet touch, so new, so different, so delightful._

_"That's... really sweet. Also a bit silly, as you've hardly met this man. But he'll do his best to be a good man. To you, at least; let's not get carried away. And yeah, the previous guy was a bit of a prick, wasn't he?" It makes it easier, laughing about it with you takes the sharpest edges of some of the guilt._

_"Yes, let's get away. As long as it's not anywhere near fucking *_ _Italy*_ _. God, what a boring place. Some private villa in the Caribbean or something. You can get tanned whilst I hide under an umbrella."_

_I pick up the glass, pour some more whiskey, have another sip._

_"So, what about you? I mean, I'm obviously disconcerted and stuff, like you gathered, with all these feelings suddenly coming into the picture. You, on the other hand, have been having feelings for a long time, and not bloody good ones. I suppose it's going to take quite some time to sort stuff out, but... I've seen you go through rollercoasters of emotions since last night. How... are you feeling now?"_

 

 

"Don't change the subject... it's not _silly_ of me to love you more like this. I look into your eyes and see your goddamned soul. How is that _silly_ , you little fucker?"

I grab the cigarette out of your mouth, and take a long drag.

"Speaking of rollercoasters of emotion... I find I'm veering wildly between feeling better than I ever have in my life, and wanting to strangle you. I guess it must be love..."

I narrow my eyes, and blow a cloud of smoke at you. Then I put the cigarette back in your mouth, and smile sweetly.

_Wow. For someone who is not a talker, you sure are eloquent. Or maybe that's just because you are saying stuff that is so incredibly sweet._

_Well. As much as someone saying they want to strangle you can be sweet._

_"Yes, I can see there's a lot of both love and resentment. And they're both coming out quite vehemently, which makes sense - you're an intense man. So, yeah. Let it out, Tiger. Let it out of your system."_

_I get up, pull you up, see you looking at me bewildered, full of love. That's not going to work. I need aggressive Tiger now._

_"Remember, nothing that happens today will be held against you."_

_I punch you in the jaw, hard._

_SLAM... shock. pain. body absorbs blow... neurons fire, adrenaline surges, muscles harden, vision goes red_...

I move my head back to look at you.

"Are you _fucking_ kidding me?"

I open my mouth, rub my jaw, and run my tongue over my teeth.

"I've been holding back _for you_ , you little shit..." I spit blood inches away from your feet. "...but _you_ get to decide when it's ok for me to unleash? Cos it's aaaall about you, isn't it-" I slam a vicious punch into your jaw. You recoil, stumble back, but you're still standing.

"Way to take a punch, Jim... But I'm not done yet... if that's OK with _you_."

I throw you back hard against the desk, and watch as files and papers go flying. I walk slowly to you as you're getting back to your feet, then I grab you by the hair and give you a bloody smile.

 

 

_I smile back at you, seeing your mouth tainted with blood, tasting my own, knowing I look feral like you. I’ve seen your mouth like this many times - often by my hand - but it never looked so defiant._

_Ah yes. Tiger unleashed. Good boy. You need to get some of this aggression out. You’ll feel better for it._

_(*_ _Yes, this is all you being altruistic, isn’t it, Jim? Nothing to do with you feeling guilty? Wanting to be punished?*_ _\- Fuck off.)_

_“Yes, it’s all about me,” I grin at you, looking you in the face as your hand tightens in my hair. “It’s always been about me. I’m the fucking King baby... I decide whether you live or die. I’ll send you on impossible missions and punish you when they fail. I ignore you for days, then shout at you because dinner isn’t ready. And you just lay back and took it, didn’t you? Because you’re weak.”_

_My eyes shine madly._

As you speak, my hand is tightening in your hair... When you finish, I throw back my head, and roar with laughter.

"Oh. you fucker..." I say between laughs, looking into your manic eyes - the same eyes that stared down at me with amusement so many times when I was bound and powerless, bleeding at your hands.

"Oh... you... _FUCKER_..." I snarl, and smash my fist into your mouth. Your head whips to the side, and I pull it back to face me. Your lip is bleeding profusely. Your eyes are a bit unfocused, but then the mad gleam lashes out at me, and I recoil.

"You had to go there...you just had to-" I punch you in the gut viciously, and let you fall to the floor. "...bring _him_ into this," I whisper, looking down at you trying to catch your breath.

"Well, Mr Moriarty, _sir_...how weak am I now, fucker?" I roar at you, standing in fighting stance, fists clenched.

 

 

_'Him'? Who's this 'him'? I can't really ask, you're not pulling your punches and I need a moment to get my breath back._

_I struggle to get my head up, look at your face - you're furious._

_Ah... wait... *_ _HIM*_ _._

 _Oh, this is excellent. Even better than I hoped. You're lashing out at the man you didn't marry - Old Moriarty. Which is what I was aiming for. But you've gone one better - you're talking about *_ _him*_ _, third person, meaning that you don't equate him with *_ _me*_ _any more. Oh well *_ _done*_ _Seb._

_I grin, blood streaming from my lip, dripping onto the floor. See, this is why we don't have carpet. I reach out to the desk, draw myself up, staring into your eyes. I know my eyes are gleaming derangedly, I've seen my face reflected like this, and I look *_ _terrifying*_ _. Lesser men have pissed themselves just having me look at them._

_But never you._

_God, you're magnificent._

_"And then," I laugh, cackling madly, spatters of blood flying from my mouth, "I disappear and you lose it *_ _completely*_ _. You're given the fucking world on a silver platter and you just sit at home pining."_

_I move my face up, moving from laughing to angry in a split second._

_"PaTHEtic."_

I've already launched myself at you, before you've even finished the word. I tackle you to the floor, roaring; your shoulder and head slam hard against the chair. I scramble to secure you, shoving your arms along your sides, and straddling them along with your waist - but I know I won't be able to hold you for long. "If you're not going to shut the fuck up, then I'm just going to have to make you, aren't I? And, Jim?" I smile fiercely. "You've had this coming for a _long time_..." I throw a brutal uppercut to your cheekbone, and see your flesh split, and blood splatter.

 

 

 _The world goes black for a bit - but I don't black out. My muscles are screaming at me to *_ _defend myself*_ _, or to *_ _escape*_ _, but I ignore them. There's blood in my eye - wow, you split my face. That's going to look pretty. I don't care. I need this. (*_ _What the fuck?! This was about Sebastian, remember? Fuck you Moriarty, for roping him into your depraved self-punishment scheme. You fucking manipulative bastard.*_ _Yes, I'm a bastard, see? I deserve this. *_ _You're sick*._ _You're just getting that now? *_ _Why are you doing this?!*_ _I DON'T KNOW! I don't know but it needs to happen. We both need to get it out of our systems. Now stop talking to yourself and pay attention to Sebastian.)_

 _"Yes, I did..." I have trouble speaking, both my jaws ache. I *_ _think*_ _I manage a smile, but I can't really feel what my face is doing._

_"Fuck me up, Tiger."_

 

 

I glare down at you. "I don't need your permission, _Sir_ ," I snap, as I rake my hair off my forehead. I raise my fist back over my shoulder, and my eyes narrow as I stare at you.

Still with the crazy eyes... Your face is a bloody mess, but... what else is wrong with this picture?

"What are you doing?" I demand. "Why aren't you fighting back?"

You give me a thoroughly maddening smirk through your swollen jaw and split lip, which has my fist tightening and my arm trembling with tension, until I realize- "Are you _letting_ me do this?"

In a split second I've jumped off you, and I'm gesturing at you to stand. "Get up..."

I wait for a moment, then lean down. "I'm not going to beat you senseless while you just lie there... is this some kind of fucking charity? _Get up_!" I shout.

You continue to smirk at me, all bloody mouth and gleaming eyes, and I feel my muscles trembling with rage.

"Or do you not even want to _try_ to fight me?" I say slowly, and a smile breaks out across my face. "I mean, we both know I'll beat you in the end... but we've never had a proper fight, have we? We've thrown down before, sure- but I've always held back. Ever wondered what would happen in a real fight between us, Jim? Cos I sure fucking have..."

I walk over to the whisky bottle. "I'll even give you a moment to recover- I'm just that sweet."

I uncap the bottle. Drink deeply from it. Exhale with satisfaction and wipe my mouth. And grinning wildly, I watch to see what you'll do.

_This is not a fight, Tiger. I didn't even *try* to defend myself. And I'm not sure if I'll be much use at the moment._

_My pride momentarily bristles - if you want a proper fight between you and me I'd rather I was in a fit state - but then I remember that it's not about my pride, it's about you getting your revenge and me getting some of the guilt out of my system._

_I wonder if I ever beat you this badly and I shouldn't have thought that - pictures of you bloody, black-eyed, bruised, burnt, hardly able to stand - passed out... come to my mind and I want to claw into my brain to get them out. I didn't even care. I didn't give a fuck._

_You're so right, I so have this coming. I stand up, my head spins but it's alright - nothing broken, no concussion, you know what you're doing even when you're fighting to hurt. I need you to hurt me more. I need you to beat those memories out of my brain._

_I walk to the sofa, sit down, reach out my hand for the bottle, take a deep drink - feel it burning down my oesophagus. Yuck. How do you knock this stuff back like that. And it does fuck all to reduce the noise in my head, the screams, the thuds, the groans. Fuck - make it stop._

_I get up again, assume a fighting stance. "Let's do this." I kick at your knee. I'm fast - I connect._

_Crunch_. Blinding pain. Searing anger. Panic - I try to move my knee, and it seizes up, launching into excruciating spasms.

That's OK... I've fought with worse injuries - much worse. I allow the pain to flow, feeding my anger and adrenaline.

" _Nice_ kick, Jim..." I say, cheerily. Favouring my good knee, I lunge forward - an uppercut to the ribs later, you're falling back against the couch, coughing and trying to breathe.

I pace as I watch you recover. "Now are you going to show me what you've got, instead of standing back while someone does all the manly, dirty work? Are you planning to keep taunting me like a playground bully, or are you actually going to _throw down_?"

The pain in my knee worsens as I walk. I wince and try not to limp - shining a spotlight on a vulnerability is not exactly desirable in a fight, or around _you_. Vicious fucker.

I swipe up the bottle, and pour a soothing river of whisky down my throat. Revelling in the fiery burn on the way down, I toss the bottle onto your lap. As I watch you unscrew the cap, I notice three things – One. My knee is suddenly a lot less painful. Two. My brain is suddenly swimming underwater. Three. You've noticed.

_Your eyes are getting unfocused - all that whiskey is having its effect. Never mind, you can still fight - you can fight under any amount of influence, we’ve tried this. Also, I might actually be able to get some punches in, which is better - less likely to harm you than kicks._

_I take a tiny sip, just to take the edge off - I’m nowhere near as resistant to the stuff as you and I need my speed to get past your defences._

_But I’ve saved my secret weapon. I’m not sure if this is wise - I might_ _actually_ _end up dead._

_“Beating on the little guy, while drinking too much? God, Seb, you really are the spitting image of your father.”_

_And I punch you in the ribs._

 

 

It's an explosion - crushing pain, radiating outward. The shock of your words, blasting through me.

As I'm stumbling back, I'm hearing a howling cry in my ears - but I'm not making a sound other than gasping for breath.

As I'm clutching my ribs, I'm seeing my fist raise and slam down on your face like a cement block - but I'm not lifting a finger.

As I'm standing frozen, I'm feeling my heart pounding through me like a massive drum, blood running through my veins, adrenaline _surging_ through me to propel me forward towards you - but I'm not moving... ...except to back away.

I back right into the desk I had thrown you into, and I partially collapse against it.

I'm struggling to stay standing - my knee throbbing, the whisky coursing through me, and- your words slamming into me, over and over again.

I shut my eyes. I feel my hands curl against the edge of the desk, gripping hard. Breathing is painful, and I labour to take in a deep enough breath - finally I manage, and the air squeezes its way into my lungs. I breathe for a few moments. And then my eyes fly open.

Slowly I push myself off the desk. I stand still and look at you for a moment. I turn on my heel and walk out of the room.

A moment later, I'm stalking out of the kitchen with a jagged shard of glass.

I walk up to you slowly, steadily. Lightning-fast, I seize your hand, fasten your fingers around the glass shard, and hold it firm against the inside of my wrist. "You want this?" I say, my voice steely.

I lock my eyes onto yours, and see the madness dissolving. You appear to be frozen.

"No?" In my iron grip, your resisting hand moves to my throat.

I can feel the throbbing of my jugular, pumping blood past the sharp tip of the glass pressed to my flesh.

"Don't you want to finish it...?" I whisper. "Cos if you don't..."

My eyes widen as I stare into the bottomless pools of your eyes, and time grinds to a stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist:
> 
> Paint it Black - The Rolling Stones  
> Hey Man, Nice Shot - Filter  
> Smack my Bitch Up - Prodigy  
> Never Wanted to Dance - Mindless Self Indulgence  
> Rise - Public Image Limited  
> Love Hurts - Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris  
> You're Going Down - Sick Puppies  
> "There is nothing you can do that I have not already done to myself."  
> (Never Wanted to Dance - Mindless Self Indulgence)


	2. Line Well and Truly Crossed

_Oh, fuck._

_Fuck fuck fuck.  
Misjudged, entirely miscalculated; fuck, Moriarty, you're a twat. You're a massive, utter prick._

_All those years. All those years you never went there, no matter how angry you were. There were some lines you did not cross and this was one of them. And here you go. Line well and truly crossed, trying to goad him into destroying you. And what_ _is_ _that urge to have him demolish you? Do you think he'll feel better afterwards... or do you think *_ _you*_ _will? Who is this *_ _for*_ _, Moriarty? And is it fucking *_ _worth*_ _seeing that look in his eyes?_

 _You feel fucking *_ _guilty*_ _, don't you. For the first time in... ever. And guilty people get punished. That's the Moriarty way. So you make Seb do your fucking dirty work, like you always make him do your dirty work. Not giving a fuck about how you get him there or how it will affect him. You're doing *_ _exactly*_ _what you were feeling guilty about in the first place, you insufferable dickhead. Look at him. No, *_ _look*_ _at his fucking eyes. *_ _You did this_ _.*_

_You're walking out. Of course you're walking out. It's the thing I fear most. So you do it. Good luck getting him back this time, Moriarty._

_Wait - you're not leaving. Oh thank fuck you're not going out the door - you're in the kitchen. You're coming back. I open my mouth, but have no idea what to say. Words, normally my friends, have all retreated in disgust at my use of the banned weapon and won't come to my mouth. You walk up to me with a shard of glass and put it in my hand. I hope you will squeeze my hand, make me bleed, but..._

_You._

_Put my hand._

_With the shard._

_Against your wrist._

_Your wrist._

_Your radial artery._

_I freeze, ice filling my veins._

_You know exactly where to cut, of course. Georgie didn't. He made a mess of it. Took him over an hour to die, the autopsy report said._

_You want me to cut. Want me to kill you. Like I killed Georgie._

_(*_ _You weren't there!*_ _No. I should have been there. *_ _You tried to find him!*_ _I should have stayed with him. *_ _You did what you did trying to save him!*_ _And it ended up killing him instead. Killing my brother. Might as well have handled the blade myself.)_

_I killed the only two people I ever loved. Now I love again - and you want me to kill you. It makes sense. It makes perfect sense._

_You move my hand to your jugular - of course, it's faster. Less painful._

_I'm not able to move. To speak._

_You look into my eyes and you see. And the look of shock in your eyes loosens my paralysis. I clutch the shard hard. My blood flows onto your wrist. It makes the glass slippery, and I can squeeze it down through my fingers. Away. Away from you. Away from your life. Please. Please, Seb. Don’t make me do this._

 

 

We're staring into each other's eyes, terrified. Everything's disintegrating around us, and inside us. Your fingers are digging into the glass, blood is streaming onto my wrist. It feels like one wrong move, and something terrible will happen, and it will be bloody, and it will be irreversible, and there will be not one but two bodies hitting the floor.

And that is _not_ happening on my watch... _Not again_.

I take firm hold of your hand, and gently loosen your grip on the jagged glass.

"Cos if you don't want to finish it..." I say quietly,"...then this little confrontation of ours is done. Whatever we've been doing here- it's _done_."

The shard of glass sails across the room, and smashes against the wall.

I take your hands in my hands, and survey the damage to your fingers. They're cut to hell, and still bleeding, but I don't think the cuts are deep enough to need stitches - if so, I'll take care of it myself.

I look back into your eyes, searching, afraid of what I'll find. Your emotions also seem cut to hell and bleeding... and that's definitely for me to take care of...

I press my lips to your forehead for a long moment, my hands cradling your head. Then I pick up my discarded t-shirt, and wrap it around your hands to keep blood from pouring onto the floor.

"Come with me," I say, sliding my arm around your shoulders. You allow me to lead you down the hall, through the master bedroom, and into the bathroom. Far from all the ugliness, from the heaps of shattered glass and emotions, we're tucked into a cocoon of quiet and peace- I guide you to sit on the ledge of the Jacuzzi and wait while I fetch first aid supplies from the medicine cabinet. I gently clean your bloody fingers, confirm that stitches won't be needed, and bandage the wounds. Then I move on to examining the rest of you- the marks of my rage. A split, bleeding lip. Swollen jaw - but not broken. A nasty cut over your cheekbone. Your abdomen and ribs appear to be only bruised, but you won't be running a marathon anytime soon. Once your wounds are carefully cleaned, disinfected and bandaged up, I crouch down in front of you, and look up your face.  
"Stunning," I say, keeping my tone light. "...but don't worry- you'll be your beautiful self again before too long. There's no permanent damage..." My breath catches in my throat as the final words seem to vibrate in this space where we're cocooned outside of time. I sit on the ledge next to you, fiercely wrap my arms around you, and rest my head on your shoulder. I move my hand to your head, gently guide it to my shoulder, and there we sit in silence for what seems like forever.

Until I finally get up the nerve to speak, and I raise my head to whisper, "I'm sorry... I was angry, and I went too far. I didn't mean it- I would _never_... I won't. I'm sorry, Jim. I'm _so_ sorry..." Then I sigh deeply, sink my head into your shoulder, and close my eyes.

 

_You pull the glass away, but the danger is still there. I will kill you. Of course I will. One day I will. I killed you when I hired you. People like you don't retire._

_But._

_Not today._

_Not on our fucking reunion/wedding/whatever day._

_I'm shaking as you lead me to the bathroom and close the door behind us with a finality that seems to give me some chance to breathe._

_The world, that click says, is outside. We are here. Together._

_You fix me up, like I've done for you so many times before, and I can't- I can't speak. I'm so cold._

_You pull me close, hold me, and I can feel your body heat trying to warm me, but it doesn't penetrate my skin. You hold me, though, and that's good, I need you to hold me; your arms are the only thing keeping me together._

_Then you apologize. *_ _You*_ _apologize. You. Who's done - *_ _nothing*_ _wrong. Just stopped me playing my crazy self-destructive deranged little game._

_I want to talk, but my teeth chatter, and my body starts shivering again. "I'm - so c-c-cold Seb..." I manage, and you look concerned._

_"Shall I run us a bath?" you ask, and I nod. You start up the water and it fills the tub. You gently remove my trousers and your own, and help me into the steaming water, boiling hot, as I like it. I hiss when it touches the wounds on my chest, but otherwise it's so welcome - I'm so cold; I'm shaking._

_You sit down behind me, putting your arms around me, pulling me back to lean against you. It's good. I feel you all around me, in the soothing hot water. Slowly the heat penetrates my body, the shivering gets less, though I still get the occasional spasm._

_I look down at your hand, take it, move it about in mine, fidgeting with it, trying to think of what to say. I need to say so much, and I have no idea how. Life was so much easier before feelings. They're back with a vengeance, it appears. Love, oh yes, love. But... guilt. Guilt is crushing me and it seems only to get worse with every passing hour, as more and more condemning scenes pop into my mind and place another weight on my heart._

_"I-I..." My voice falters. I rub your thumb, follow the lines in your palm. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. I am so sorry, Seb. I... had this idea that if you could beat me up, you'd feel better. Get it out of your system - you know." I rub my eyes. They sting._

_"But... " Honesty, Moriarty. He deserves no less._

_"I realize that I was, once again, doing it for myself. I feel... so much guilt. It appears love comes with guilt. Can you imagine... all the stuff I did..." My throat constricts. I push the words through it._

_“I wanted to… be punished, I guess. For all the suffering I caused you. I wanted to feel better by suffering myself. Very Catholic of me,” I grin. Ouch – that made my lip split open again._

_“So as bloody usual, I used you. And by the time I realized – I just wanted to suffer more._

_I need you to know – you must know…” Recollections of what I said burn into my brain, turning the weights on my heart red hot – “What I said – it was purely to goad you. I know you; I know your fears – I targeted those. I raised your deepest insecurities. *_ _Nothing*_ _I said has *_ _any*_ _basis in reality, or in what *_ _I*_ _think. I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot.”_

 

I feel your body shivering against mine, and all I want to do is to hold you, protect you, keep you safe from everything that threatens you - including yourself.

I listen to you speak, folded in my arms. I'm trying so hard not to panic, Jim - about your wellbeing. But I don't interrupt. I try to focus on just being there, listening, hearing you. After you finish, I'm silent for a moment. Then I sigh and kiss the back of your head.  
"Yeah, I may know how that feels," I say, drily. "Wanting to be punished... wanting to suffer. You're blaming yourself for what you did to me, and - OK, you _should_. But I was there because I felt like I needed it. You held the whip, and the knife, and the fists - and I wanted it all."

My chin rests against your hair. "I guess I was - using you, too. I thought I was so noble, so pure - suffering out of love. It doesn't feel so good to realize... some part of me just wanted the shit kicked out of me... wanted to be mistreated. And now _I_ feel guilty that you feel guilty for it." My arms tighten around you. "This is so fucked...we're not going to get through this if we just rip _ourselves_ to shreds instead of each other."

I move your hair off your forehead, and press my lips against it. "Maybe- we can't do anything about guilt and fucked up feelings, all at once, and- we just have to deal with it. Like physical pain - if you can't make pain go away, you just accept it, and do what you have to do - the pain is there, but you can't let it stop you. No matter what. You deal with the cause of the pain later when you're finished and out of danger. You don't forget the mission just because you're broken or bleeding. The army wasn't wrong about that... pricks," I mutter.

I move my head, so my cheek is pressed against yours. "As for everything you said... don't add that to your burden. Yeah, it sucked to hear - but I knew what you were doing. Even before I clued in... I _knew_. Not that I didn't want to kick your ass - really fucking hard," I laugh softly against your face. "And- I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed we didn't fight. I've wanted to fight you since I fucking met you... you insufferable prick. That's not going away anytime soon. But - not like this. It has to be for the right reasons." I laugh louder. "God, we're so fucked... and I don't _care_. I want to fight you. I want to fuck you. I want to be with you, for all the good moments and the bad ones, too. Anything else isn't real, and I'm not interested. You don't marry James Moriarty without expecting some chaos and destruction. And you sure as hell don't marry Sebastian Moran without knowing that any given moment, he may be thinking about fucking you or kicking your ass. If you can live with that, so can I."

I wrap my legs around yours. "Now. We're going to do what _I_ say for a change, little fucker. We're going to go lie down for awhile. Then we'll get up and have something to eat. And we'll talk, but we won't push too hard." I press my lips to your earlobe. "But before we do any of that..." I turn you to face me. "Let it go. I need you to let it go. I don't care how long it takes you - start now. Otherwise it's just going to fuck things up.... and oh god, Jim - it was so awful in there... I need us to never do that again. And now I'm freaking out that it happened, and I really need your lips on me. Jim - can't we just be kissing now?" I take your beaten, bandaged face in my hands, stare deeply into your eyes, and softly press my mouth to your bleeding lips.

 

 

_Your eyes - so impossibly blue, with the blue of the tub reflected in them, the movement of the water creating a sense of deep oceans in which I could dive, disappear - or drown._

_Your lips touch mine and I yield to your kiss, so soft, so gentle, so unlike you, unlike us - when did we ever kiss, other than in hunger?_

_Your words ricochet through my brain, being sorted away in their respective categories, information filed, queries raised, but that's in the background - my conscious mind is in my mouth, the feeling of your soft smooth lips on mine, your - beard, I can't really call this straggly bush stubble any more, rubbing against my chin, your hands stroking my hair, my face, so tenderly, carefully, your tongue seeking entrance, eagerly given, exploring my mouth, licking the blood off my lip. I lose myself in the kiss like a teenager exploring the miracle of osculation for the first time, and in a way I am I guess? I never kissed with such *_ _intent*_ _, such... sensuality? Just feeling the touches, every detail of it, and relishing it, rather than impatiently waiting for the sexuality of it, is new, and... interesting._

_We kiss for a long time, in the warm embrace of the water, until my heart feels a bit lighter, at least... bearable._

_"You're right, Tiger," I mumble when we at last stop, and just cuddle, my head on your shoulder, your beard stroking my forehead. "I'm sorry I'm so fucked up. I bet you're overjoyed to have me back," I chuckle. "Yeah, let's - let's have a kip. You're still half pissed, and I'm - well - I got a bit of a headache, don't know why...." I smile, but stop when I feel your muscles tense. "Hey, no - it's ok. It's not your fault, it's mine. I wanted it. I made you do it. I'll... I'll try my very best to stop being a manipulative bastard all the time. I'm not saying it'll work - old habits are hard to break, and I don't even realize I'm doing it half the time, but... I promise I will try to stop manipulating *_ _you*_ _... and myself."_

 

"We'll figure it out, Jim... we just need some time..." I assure you, rubbing your arm. "In less than 24 hours you've come back from the dead, we nearly killed each other, we fucked, we talked about our feelings, and we got _fucking married_ \- then to celebrate, we talked more about our feelings, fought and nearly killed each other... I think a bath and a lie-down is the perfect way to finish that list. Ready for bed?"

I get up out of the bathtub, and help you stand. I grab two fluffy white towels, and hand you one. Then we dry each other off, kissing frequently. Leaving our bloody, sweaty clothes on the floor (I saw that disapproving look, Jim - deal with it), we go out into the bedroom naked. It feels like neither of us wanted to leave the warm cocoon of the bathroom, but luckily the bedroom still feels safe. Sliding under the covers, and wrapping around each other, I wonder what to do next. Of course my mind turns to sex first. But I'm guessing you won't feel ready quite yet. I can't stop touching you, though - I deal with my disappointment about postponed sex by kissing your face, your neck, your lips. And I'm delighted that you're kissing back even though you seem exhausted by our ordeal. It seems to take you mind off it, though - the haunted shadows in your eyes are slightly lessening with each kiss.

Throughout our snogfest, there is also gentle caressing, talking in low, sleepy voices, and laughing softly. It really is like being teenagers...

"Just give me one little kiss." "No, you can't have one..." "But I want it..." "Well, you can't have one, but I'll give two." And so on... I have to admit, it's adorable. We're adorable. We've never been so adorable. Meanwhile, I can't help but think how much I long to be fucking that sweet arse of yours, but for now, I don't let on what vivid images are popping into my head.

"Just one more kiss then, " I say with mock firmness, "...and then we should have that kip, and hopefully wake up refreshed." I move forward, press my lips to yours, and knowing it may be the last snog for a little while, I kiss you hungrily.

 

 

 _We really are two teenagers in love. But it's fine - I've never been one before, so I think I'm entitled. You are so heartbreakingly *_ _sweet*_ _and tender and cute - I don't get it, I really don't; after all I've done to you, put you through, you are treating me like I'm the most adorable and adored person on the planet. You look utterly infatuated, touching me, giving little kisses everywhere, actually *_ _giggling*_ _, which makes *_ _me*_ _giggle, good grief._

_But it works. The black fog of guilt and desperation lifts a bit, the feeling still there, but no longer overwhelming me; I can push it down. The old guilt has been buried for a very long time and can stay buried a bit longer, the new guilt over what I did to you - it helped what you said earlier, though we really need to talk about that - I add it to the mental spreadsheet._

_I've had my eyes closed for a bit, enjoying your caresses and kisses and practically purring, but I open them again when you speak, and though your words speak of sleeping, your eyes speak of something else entirely. You have The Look. That look which is so familiar to me, which you don't even realize you do, but it's making me gasp. That look that makes clothes spontaneously fall off. That look that says that I'm the hottest, most desirable man you've ever seen and you want to devour me whole *_ _right now*_ _. And then you kiss me with such hunger that I moan, feel my limbs go weak - yet another cliché that I'd read about and always thought metaphorical. I surrender into your kiss, let you devour me, ignoring the pain in my jaw and lip your enthusiasm effects. You pull away from me, looking down at me with smouldering eyes that make me shiver._

 _Like I could deny you *_ _anything*_ _at this moment. My Sebastian. My yours. My whatever we are._

_"Time to consummate the marriage, don't you think?" I say hoarsely._

 

You moan, and my ears perk up. _Ummm...?_  
Your muscles go slack, but not with fatigue... _surrender_.  
I open my eyes, searching for an answer to the question I don't dare ask, or even hope for.  
I already know you'll be too tired... too traumatized... too in pain.  
But my eyes meet yours, and those dark, bottomless pools are all acquiescence, all invitation, all shivering welcome.  
And then you speak of consummation...  
And wonder and love merge with desire and lust, and everything ignites.  
My body and mind, heart and soul are in flames - and soon we are engulfed in them.

Time to consummate the marriage?

" _Fuck. Yes._ " I breathe out.  
Desire burns through me, but I force myself to move slowly. We've both been through so much. I kiss you deeply, I moan against your mouth. Well, maybe not too slowly... _No, Seb - there will never be another first time... make it last..._

I break off from the kiss. What I see in your eyes has me diving back into devouring your mouth - I'm trying to be gentle, but I'm tasting the blood from your lip again, and it's delicious...

My hands are roaming your body, trying to feel every inch of your skin - there is nothing I don't want to claim. My hands move down your chest, skimming lightly over your ribs and abdomen so as not to cause pain.

"Be Mine," I say in your ear, breathily. "All Mine... I want to devour you."

And my hand travels further and slides down your cock. My fingers encircle you, and I stroke firmly, and my lips are pressed into your neck. "Do you want me?" I whisper. "Do you want me inside you, baby?" I lick hard against your neck and ear lobe, and desire surges through me.

 

_*Whoosh*_ _. My comment sets you ablaze like you're a gasoline-drenched newspaper to which I hold a match. I can feel your skin burn as you breathe your desire at me, kiss me desperately, moan - oh god –_

_I grab you, hold onto you for dear life, as you kiss me again, lick the blood from my lip lasciviously, touch my body like you're afraid I'll disappear if you don't claim every inch of me. And then your voice, your words, claiming me further, and I yield only too eagerly - I'm your Mine, I'm yours, yes, devour me, my Tiger..._

_You touch my cock and I groan with the intensity of the feeling. Your next words pour onto me like honey and I can only breathe my yearning response "YES... yes oh god yes... fuck me Tiger... I want you. I want all of you. I want to feel you, your heat, your hunger. I want it to hurt. I want it to heal. I want you to whimper with pleasure. God, Sebastian, I want you, I need you... *_ _fuck me*_ _." I look up at your eyes, dark blue, your pupils huge with aching want. "... fuck me..." I whisper._

 

The words that are pouring out of you... _holy fuck_ , Jim... if I was turned on before, now I'm a man possessed.

I devour your lips, stopping only to moan, "I want you too - I need you, baby. God, I just want to be inside you, fucking you right now... just let me- get-" I pull myself away from you to open the drawer of the nightstand, and it's like torture not touching your skin.

"How are we ever going to goddamn function again?" I mutter as I tear through the drawer, then give up and pitch the drawer and all the contents on the floor. "Where the fuck is the fucking- oh, here." I scramble back to you, lube in hand, and pull you back into my arms. Even after that brief moment away, I feel the need to reconnect with you- kissing you deeply, slipping my tongue past your lips, groaning against your mouth. My cock is pushing against yours, and it's unbelievably hot, but soon it's not enough to just be rubbing against you. I pull back to stare intently into your eyes - seeing my need and ache reflected in you, I slowly hook an arm under your leg. I pull your thigh up against your chest, move your calf onto my shoulder. I pop the cap from the lube, and pour some into my hand - I stroke my own cock with it, slow, firm strokes.

"Fuck, you're making me so hard, Jim..." I breathe out. "So fucking hard..." Then I slide a wet finger inside you, move it in slow circles... _you're so tight...have to go slow, Seb..._ I'm stretching you out, slowly adding fingers. Kissing you, thrusting my tongue in your mouth.

And then it's time... our kissing is growing desperate, and we're panting. I move your other thigh up against your chest, and your calf against my other shoulder - it feels like I'm so close to claiming my territory- "Mine," I breathe out. My cock is pressed against you, seeking entrance... and as I slowly push into you, I moan softly, "Mine..." I nearly lose control right then and there - but I wait a moment, feel your muscles adjusting; then push my cock further into you. So close... I pull back slightly, then surge forward again - and I finally feel your surrender to me. Your muscles are surrounding my cock, squeezing me so hard... you're gasping, groaning with pleasure... "You are just the fucking hottest thing... _fuck_ , Jim-" I groan, pull back, and thrust into you hard. _I am lost in you, my love..._ I look down at your bruised and beautiful face, your eyes like gleaming pools of ink, and I growl, "You're mine, little fucker... _Mine_."

 

 

_You move miles away from me to rummage in the nightstand and I stretch out my hand to maintain contact; I feel like you'll disappear if I don't. You seem to feel the same, grasping me as you return like you've been away for weeks._

_You pull up my leg and start stroking your cock and it's the hottest sight imaginable; your cock is a work of art worthy of display in the British Museum as the finest specimen of the species, and combined with your rapacious eyes makes me cringe in eager anticipation._

_Your finger feels delightful, but I do notice I have more trouble accommodating than I did before - makes sense. Relax, Moriarty. But that's hard when you're kissing me ferally, still tasting of the whisky and cigarettes, the quintessential taste of Seb, and my whole body tenses with arousal and desire._

_I want you, I want you so fucking much; I have this aching feeling of emptiness inside me and I long for you to relieve it, to be inside me, as much as you possibly can. You push my other leg up and this is it, this will be our first postmarital fuck, and how ironic that it's you fucking me, but it's right, it's so right._

_'Mine,' you say, and it makes me quiver - and you press into me, and it hurts, but it hurts *_ _so good*_ _. I try to ease my muscles, you push again, and - I release. I give myself over to you, and it's superb, the desire, the lust, the pain, the love..._

_I groan in total ecstasy, I don't think I've ever let my control slip this much, and it's sheer exultation, giving my body over to you, knowing that you will use it, and knowing that that will be utter rapture for both of us._

_You look into my eyes, your eyes searing their way straight into my soul; I'm naked and exposed beneath you and it's all I've ever wanted to be._

_'Mine' you repeat, and yes, if ever I have been anything, if ever I have wanted to be anything, it's yours. It hits me that you are *_ _my*_ _higher power as well, in a way; the only person - thing - concept - I've ever felt *_ _devotion*_ _for. I am devoted to you, Sebastian Patrick Moran. I have no idea what it will do to me - to us - but for now, this is perfect._

_"Yours...." I breathe._

 

 

Something started happening to you, when your body surrendered to mine. I know you loved me before, but this feels next level... I've been trying not to move too fast or intensely, and what I see glowing in your eyes is going to send me hurtling over the edge soon. Everything I've felt for you I'm seeing reflected back to me. And I don't know what to do with this development- I've always been the one who felt the most, cared the deepest, loved hardest. What will it mean to be on the receiving end of this intense passion, to be on equal ground?

I can't wrap my head around it yet... but all I know is in this moment, you are naked and ecstatic underneath me - totally submitting to my body and burning lust - You're squeezing, clamping down around me... I let out a deep groan and thrust into you hard.

" _God_ , what you're doing to my cock, Jim- I really wanted to make this last-" I pant. "But you're so _fucking_ hot, baby..."

Searing pleasure burns through me, and I find myself moving deeper, harder... I lean down and press my lips hard to yours. "Guess I'll just have to make it count," I growl against your mouth. And moving my hand to your cock, I begin to stroke you to the same rhythm as my thrusts into your sweet arse.

 

 

 _You're kissing and moving inside me and grabbing my cock and I'm done for - I have never. Ever. In my life. Felt so... much. So good. So fucking in love. I'd eat you up whole if I could. I just want this, this perfect moment, to last. And I know it won't, and that's partly what makes it so special, but I dread what's going to come; the negotiating, the fights, the inevitability of either of us dying, probably you, and I don't ever want any of that; I never want to leave this bed, this situation of you inside me, claiming me as yours, me feeling fulfilled, loving, ... happy. I have never felt *_ _happy*_ _in my life. Can I please, please have this a little bit longer?_

 _You're talking, and your voice sounds so raw and real, your words pure sex, your face is contorted with lust and pleasure and it's the hottest sight imaginable. Your thrusting intensifies as do your wrist movements on my cock and *_ _fuck*_ _Sebastian, you are - Sebastian –_

_I'm groaning your name, insensate with hunger for you, wanting you to fill me up entirely, surround me entirely, wanting to drown in your kisses, lose myself in your eyes, I want to merge with you Sebastian, be one body, one soul, never be apart from you again. I feel my orgasm building, my balls contracting, and it's going to be world-shattering._

 

I move back to stare down at you because I can't get enough of your beautiful face, all flushed and moaning. And you look... blissful. You – Jim - look _happy_. I almost stop right then and there out of shock, which makes me fumble the pace a little. Then that throws me off my rhythm entirely - _shit_. I wanted this to be amazing for you... I wanted this to be a fuck you'd always remember...

But you're _groaning_ my name, and I don't think you even noticed, and Jesus Christ, it's just the hottest thing I've ever heard, and now I need even more of you, but you seem really close to the end, and I don't have much time, so I grasp you by the hips, and I start _pulling_ you up and towards me - I'm pulling you into a steeper angle against my body, which drives you harder onto my cock, and fuck me if I don't hit the sweetest spot in all creation, and I don't know if you'll ever surrender to me like this again, and I find myself letting loose with the forbidden mantra I used to rant silently in the torturous days before you were Mine: " _FuckILoveYouFuckILoveYouJimIWantToBeWithYouForeverBeMineBeMineAlwaysbeMineILoveYouSoFuckingMuchJimSoFuckingMuch_ -" and then I realize you're thrusting into my hand to the rhythm of my words, and you're quivering underneath me, and then you unleash into an orgasm like I've never seen, all guttural groans and violent shuddering, and it's throwing me gasping into my own - my head is thrown back and I'm crying out... feeling my cock squeeze out an orgasm in wave after wave of insane pleasure, while you're shooting against my hand, and your chest, and you're panting for dear life, and I'm just _whimpering_ at all the aftershocks tearing through me while I'm still firmly lodged in you.

And collapse is immanent, so I lower you down to a more comfortable angle, but I just need a moment before pulling out of you, which I'm afraid will feel like a devastating loss, and I realize I'm tearing up anyway. I'm fucking crying after sex, Jesus Christ, whatever happened to your world-class sniper?? _Fuck_... your eyes are closed anyway as you're trying to catch your breath - so I pull out, cover your body with mine, and wrap my arms around you - we're a sweet, sticky heap of entangled limbs and I press my wet face into your shoulder. I'm not ready to speak yet - I don't trust that my voice won't shake.

 

 

 _You seem to stumble, lose the rhythm, but then you pick me up and - *_ _oh my fucking god*_ _\- I nearly lose myself in the intensity of the sensation, but am drawn back by your voice, your voice speaking the most wonderful words in the English language, fuck Shakespeare; this is so pure, so heartfelt, so heartbreakingly *_ _beautiful*_ _that I feel tears coming to my eyes, I move to the rhythm of the most intoxicating chant I've ever heard and I lose myself entirely in the words, the feeling, in *_ _you*_ _, Sebastian, beautiful Sebastian, wonderful Sebastian, yes, I am yours, forever, and I love you, I love you, fuck *_ _I love you*..._

 _I realize I'm probably saying this out loud, but can't be sure, my brain is being gently deconstructed whilst my body is being violently shaken by the life being pulled out of me by your hand, into your hand, yet another cliché proves itself true -_ _la petite mort_ _\- though there's nothing petite about it, I'm being torn apart and my atoms scattered among the stars; I'm only dimly aware of you joining me, feeling your own life being poured out into me, hearing your cries, your whimpers, as your atoms mingle with mine and we float out to the edges of space together._

_It's a long, long time before I feel us rushing back down to earth and I can't suppress a stab of regret, because we will be reformed into two separate bodies, no longer one with each other and the universe._

_You're lying on top of me, covering me with your body now gone limp, your arms around me, doing your best to minimize the surface area where we are not touching._

_Your face is pressed into my shoulder - wet. Oh Sebastian, you too? And you - didn't want me to see it? With superhuman effort I disentangle one arm, move it to your face, gently cup your chin to raise it up, so you can see my eyes - see the tears in them._

_I don't think I can speak, so just gaze into your eyes, stroking your face so softly; rapt in wonder at the beauty of it. I wonder if I've ever truly *_ _seen*_ _your face; it's the most enchanting face I've ever beheld, surely I should have noticed this before? I touch every bit of it - stroking your eyebrows, your nose, your cheekbones, your lips, your jaw, your ears, in fascination. Your eyes look into mine, a little dazed, but I see the same awe reflected back at me._

_They say marriage changes people. And I do believe, in our case, that is actually true. I don't recognize this man in my bed, and I have no idea who the man in my head is. But the man in my head is fully happy to spend eternity just gazing at the man in my bed in spellbound rapture, because he's finally found what he never realized he'd been searching for - a meaning for life._

 

 

My face pressed into your shoulder, I'm trying to keep my tears to myself so there won't be a return to any of the guilt or dark Feelings from before. And also because, well... I still feel the urge to cover up any weakness or vulnerability... I have no idea what you would think of me crying after sex.

Then you're lifting up my face, and _no, don't look, Jim, don't_ \- but now I see you're also teary - only this time it's good crying, and I'm so fucking relieved...

And now you're stroking my face, and just _gazing_ at me like I'm some kind of treasure, and I can barely breathe. I feel so - exposed and like this should make me so uncomfortable, but instead I feel... full of wonder. I don't know what the fuck is happening to us, or what comes next, I really don't... I don't think there are maps for this kind of thing - not for symbiotic criminal psychopaths.  
But I realize we don't need to figure out the rest of our lives in this moment. In fact, the best thing for us to do is probably to fall asleep - just to give our poor brains and your bruised body some time to recover...

But first...

I place a hand on your cheek. Kiss your lips softly. And I whisper, "I know exactly what you mean."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist:  
> Miserere - Ennio Morricone  
> A Warm Place - Nine Inch Nails  
> Stripped - Depeche Mode  
> A Question of Lust - Depeche Mode  
> Paradise Circus - Massive Attack
> 
> "Oh well, the devil makes us sin  
> But we like it when we're spinning in his grip  
> Love is like a sin, my love  
> For the ones that feel it the most"  
> (Paradise Circus - Massive Attack)


	3. Higher Fucking Power

_The atoms must have merged or something, because you're reading my mind, and responding to it. Seems perfectly logical at this moment, and that reminds me of how tired I am._

_I'm sore all over, exhausted, sticky, bruised and bandaged, and completely and utterly happy._

_I feel myself sinking deeper and deeper into blissful oblivion, yet resisting it, because I want to prolong this moment, this moment of total and complete contentment and peace - I've never experienced anything like it. My mind informs me of the chemicals currently cruising through it, causing this sensation, but I tell it to go do one; I'm busy. I'm not taking any calls, I'm staring at my sniper. My eyes are falling closed, and I try to resist, but really, we do need to sleep. Not with you lying on top of me - much as I love it, you're getting heavy and I'm reminded of my bruised ribs.  
I move you to the side, reluctantly, and immediately you are worried, apologetic, fussing about my bruises, and I fuss back about yours, because your jaw is swelling, and you should have put ice on it, and you say it's nothing, and you should put ice on mine, and I tell you you're not leaving this bed, and we fuss and stroke but we're both nodding off, and I nudge you onto your back and lay my uninjured cheek on your shoulder and my hand on your heart. You fold your arms around me, and I can't stay awake any longer, I fall into oblivion as the softest, most velvety, most peaceful blackness imaginable enfolds me._

 

 

I stay awake for awhile to make sure you're OK - you seem to be resisting, but then you fall asleep at last - and for once, it's peaceful. At last, I fall asleep too - and it's heaven. I feel like I'm aware of your presence both in sleep, and in dreams - you're omnipresent to me, Jim. (Higher Fucking Power, I believe you said...?)

I wake up, and look at the clock next to the bed. 4pm. Whenever you wake up, we'll need to eat something. And I do not want you to have to walk through the living room and kitchen, with bits of broken class and china everywhere. Not after seeing that look in your eyes... (I'm so sorry, Jim...)

I get up quietly, and watch to make sure you don't wake up. After a moment, I head out to fetch a broom and a dustpan. I clean up every shard, every fragment I can find - and then I throw them out. Good riddance.  
I look through the cupboards and refrigerator, for the ingredients for a meal other than an English breakfast - no such luck. I'd pop out for a bit, but you're not in any state to wake up to an empty house. Even if I leave a cheery "Out to pick up food - be back soon!" note. We'll order take-out, I decide. Thai food - seems like a great feast for our wedding reception - just for me and you. Perfect.

All evidence is gone from our collective meltdowns. I return to the bedroom, and slowly slide in next to you. You are sleeping a little less peacefully than I left you- but your eyes flicker open for the briefest moment, and you seem relieved.  
I gather you in my arms, and let out a huge sigh of relief. You're not the only one who feels like something's amiss when we're not in close proximity. How long is this effect going to last, Jim..? It'll present a challenge to return to a life of crime, if we have to run back to each other every five seconds. I imagine setting up for a job, then thinking, "I miss my psycho spouse!', and leaving the job unfinished to return to your loving arms. I snicker at the thought.

But then I slide my arms around you more firmly, and you heave a sigh in your sleep. And I close my eyes, and fall back into a sleep that beckons me, promising to be soft and deep and sweet.

 

_I sleep deeply and more peacefully than I ever have, dark intense blackness without thoughts, sensation, or dreams, for a long time._

_Then a dream comes; I dream that I'm in Italy and I have to find you, but you keep disappearing around a corner every time I get near. I get lost in Milan that then turns into Venice and I'm afraid you've fallen into the water because you can't swim because you're too big. Then I walk into a church lit by so many candles and you're there on your knees, praying, and I don't want to disturb you because you're praying for something important. But when I am trying to get closer quietly, you disappear again, and I start praying too because I want you to come back or follow you to wherever they've taken you. And it works - I feel your arms around me and when I look you are there, and together we sit among the candles that slowly burn out, and it gets darker and darker as we sit there together, until all there is is blackness and I sleep so deeply again, still very conscious of your arms around me._

_When I wake, it is dark. You are asleep, holding onto me. Your face looks peaceful, the new lines in it smoothed by sleep, and you look so different to the man on the edge of insanity that I saw last night. I don't want to disturb you, so I lie very still, just watching you, your face looking young and tranquil, your chest rising and falling regularly, your heart beating slowly but steadily under my hand. The feeling in my heart is almost painful - it does feel like the organ is too small to contain all the emotions, like it will burst. The dopamine, cortisol, and phenylethylamine are raging through me, making me feel absolutely high off your proximity and reducing the pain from my wounds and bruises to a dull background ache. I'd happily lie here until kingdom come getting my fix, but my bladder is asking if it might perhaps have a word, and no matter how I tell it to fuck off, it keeps getting more and more insistent. I try to slide out of your embrace very gently, but your eyes open and your smile lights up the world. I bend down to kiss you softly, and whisper "Good evening, my magnificent Yours."_

 

My breath catches in my throat at your words. A few hours of sleep didn't do anything do subdue your romantic leanings.

"And to you, my Mine..." I murmur, grab your hand in mine, and pull you back down, to rub my face against yours.

I could spend hours doing just this - rubbing against you, kissing, speaking our own language to each other... But I catch your wince when I rub too hard against your jaw, and I lean back to look at you. Guilt surges through me. In the few hours that we napped, your bruising is already more pronounced - your cheekbone and both sides of your jaws are swollen and angry purple. I look up to into your eyes- you're still beautiful, and you're still my Jim. I'll need to check your cheekbone and change your dressing when we get up.

Is that what we're doing now? I'm not ready. You were on your way somewhere... I don't want to let you go.

"You're getting up?" I ask softly, and I can't help the start of a pout from hovering over my lips.

 

_I grin at your response. "Varied as my kinks are, Tiger, water sports isn't one of them. So I'm going to the loo, if you don't mind. And then I think we could both do with a shower. And then - let's get out of here. Too many ghosts in this house. Somewhere warm and private. I assume you've got someone capable of dealing with things when you're absent. Just - I want to go somewhere we've never been, rediscover who we are. I don't care if that sounds corny."_

 

 

I blink. Jesus, Jim... you _are_ changeable, aren't you?

"After the day we had, I thought you'd want to sleep for a week, and now you want to take off?" I grin sleepily. "Sign me up. It's not corny at all - and if it is, I don't give a shit. Who would have the balls to say it, anyway..."

I watch as you stand up. "And yeah, I have someone who can cover me - everyone in charge needs a henchman who can handle things, right?" I yawn and roll to my side, feeling lazy and content. Wait - what did I just say? Did that sound - sexual? Don't look at him... _don't look_. I glance at you quickly, despite direct orders, then sit up.

"So - you want me to make the arrangements? I know a place - it's a bit farther than what you may be thinking, but Cabo San Lucas in Mexico is supposed to be amazing. We can rent a private villa, and get away from everyone and everything. What do you think?"

 

 

_"I do want to sleep for a week, but preferably not here. This room is full of memories, and I'm haunted enough for the moment."_

_I look at the slat in the headboard, craftily glued together, almost impossible to see the crack where you broke it after I'd left you tied to the bed and just... left for a couple of days. I was pissed off with you about something; I don't even remember, it seemed important at the time._

_The place next to the dresser where the chair used to stand where I'd gone too far one night - I was so fucking furious about someone *_ _else*_ _screwing me over, but you had to suffer, didn't you, always my whipping boy - I thought I'd killed you. Every time I looked at the thing I'd see your blue face again. You never asked why I threw it out._

_Everywhere I look there are memories of who I was, who you were, who we were - there are so many good memories too, of course, but my brain seems to enjoy just showing me the ones that stab me with guilt, and there are so many in this bedroom, where I'd show you heaven and hell; but sometimes the devil would just take over and hell would be no fun any more._

_I walk to the loo, grab my phone on the way out, "I'll have a look at your Mexican place."_

 

 

I sit frozen on the bed, staring after you. OK... where the hell did that come from. This isn't because of what I said...? No - worse. _Shit_. The bath, the consummation fuck, the nap... they were just enough to make you forget for a while. But not long enough.

I rub my eyes, suddenly too exhausted to move. Well, I guess it's good we're leaving, if this is how you feel being here. Maybe we should _move_. Or burn the place to the fucking ground. Because I don't know about you, Jim - but I've had enough misery for a lifetime.

I swipe a pack of smokes from the bedside table, and light one up. Then I lean against the headboard, place one hand behind my head, and start blowing smoke rings at the ceiling.

 

 

 _I have a piss sitting down, looking up Cabo San Lucas. It looks nice but nothing is private enough for my liking. I find a nice place on the Yucatan Peninsula, a villa with a private beach and a large fucking fence around it. Discreet housekeepers - the whole place seems to have been built for people who want *_ _privacy*_ _. Perfect._

_I get back to the bedroom, see you smoking, take the cigarette and have a drag._

_"Booked us a place in Mahahual, right on the sea, private beach, *_ _huge*_ _bed, hammocks under palm trees, looks perfect. We're flying in three hours - I'm the famous star who doesn't want to be recognized, you're the bodyguard. Let's have a shower; then you get a driver and your backup in place, I'll pack."_

 

My lips quirk. "Some bodyguard I'm supposed to be... You look like you walked into a _lot_ of medicine cabinets. Oh, _don't_ look at me like that..." I chuckle and snatch the fag from you, take a long drag. "If we can't laugh about how colossally fucked up we are, then- it's all just a little too much, isn't it?"

I stand up, the sheet sliding off me and I stub out the cigarette in the ashtray. "All right, rock star- get your sexy arse in the shower, and let's get the hell out of here. I'm going to need a margarita to figure out how to fuck you in a hammock."

I walk into the bathroom, you trailing behind me. I don't even have to see your face to know you're on edge. My big mouth probably isn't helping...which juuust makes me want to act out more. If we can get out of here without any more violence or meltdowns, this honeymoon will be off to an auspicious start.

 

 

 _Now I’ve decided to run away - and that’s what it is, let’s not make it any prettier - I want to go *_ _now*_ _. I realize I have no idea if you kept any of my clothes - no worries, I’ll get new ones. I’m aware they say you can’t run from your memories - but they’re wrong; I’ve done it before._  
_You’re babbling; I blank you out._  
_I think I do want to stay in London - the thought of starting a crime cartel with you in Mexico briefly appeals but let’s be honest, I hate the sun, and well - London is a terrible place but it’s mine. And I’m not finished with it yet._  
_We wash, you still blabbing, trying to instigate sex, to which I point at an absent watch. We’re leaving and I’m not missing that plane. I mumble something about renewing our membership of the mile-high club and you seem reasonably satisfied with that._  
_We dry off and you go and arrange stuff and I go to pack. You haven’t touched any of my stuff - easier not to I suppose._  
_No need for anyone to know I’m back - I put on a hoodie and sunglasses, some make-up - my own mother wouldn’t recognize me. Let the driver think you have a new toy. I wonder if the stewardesses will think I’m Justin Bieber again._  
_I pack summer stuff for two. And slowly I’m getting calmer - we’re leaving._  
_Before you come back, I log into your account and make some final arrangements. Steve will come in when we’re away and take out some key items. Then the place will blow up. Gas leak. Tragic, but fortunately no one got hurt._

 

 

Well, our shower was _not_ like the other ones... you're so serious. Distracted. I'm trying to elicit a reaction every way I can think of, and nothing's working. _Fuck it._ I guess I forgot what you're like when you're locked in that bunker in your brain. It's all coming back to me now - the time wasted throwing myself against the cold flintiness of solid stone. Well, things have changed, and I don't have that kind of patience anymore. (Or _whatever_ it was... I feel like I don't know anything any more.)

I leave you to it, and walk out of the bathroom, mumbling under my breath. Then I get down to business - sending e-mails, making calls. Almost 24 hours ago, I was ready to leave it all behind - permanently. Now, I'm checking the key threads in the web for tautness, stickiness, fortitude. Bain will have to monitor the rest, and keep me posted. I trust him more than most - ex-SAS, handles everything impeccably. I think back to what I said earlier about my henchman - did you catch that? Of course you did - you catch everything. But I'm happy to deal with ramifications at a later date, if we can just keep things together while we're in Mexico... I rub my eyes, and sigh. We can't get there a moment too soon...

I return to the bedroom, and you've already got suitcases packed.

"Driver will be here in 20. Ready to go?" I grab the luggage without waiting for an answer. Head to the front door, deposit bags. Then I go to the kitchen, and prepare a couple of sandwiches.

You're on the couch when I return to the living room - working away on your damn laptop. I'm tempted to slam down the lid, but I'm not suicidal anymore. I press a sandwich into your hand, and place a cup of tea on the table.

"Eat that. All of it. You need your strength." I fetch my own sandwich and tea, and throw myself on the couch next to you to devour it.

"Everything's sorted. We're good to go. Fucking eat, Jim." You roll your eyes and take small bites, as you continue to stroke and tap keys.

My eyes sweep over you. Well, you don't look beaten within an inch of your life, at least - just like you got into a drunken brawl. I take in your appearance - the sunglasses, the sullen expression. Hmm - I have to admit, this look is really doing it for me.

"I've never fucked a rock star before," I say conversationally. "Plenty of aspiring musicians, though. Wonder if it's any different." I smile sweetly at you, and down my tea.

 

 

_Fucking Holmes. I can track his progress like he’s leaving a trail of fucking glow in the dark pebbles - attacking one part of the web after another; and there’s only so much I can do without revealing my own continued survival to him. I have to concede bit after bit and it’s fucking grating._

_There’s nothing I can do until he’s back in London really..._

_I can’t believe he would let John grieve for so long. I thought *_ _I*_ _was supposed to be the callous bastard around here...._

_wait._

_John..._

_*Oh*._

_I just had a thought._

_Oh I love my mind sometimes._

_I know *_ _just*_ _the thing; the perfect surprise to await our Sherly when he comes back to his John._

_What’s the worst thing_ _I_ _could have come home to?_

_I think I know the perfect person... Look through my contacts... Oh, yes._

_*She’s*_ _looking for a nice guy to settle down with, *_ _he’s*_ _got a type... It’s a match made in heaven._

_Oh, this is too perfect. The receptionist at John’s practice may have an unfortunate accident soon... and I know just the person to replace her._

_Rosamund - you’re up._

_I smile broadly as I close the laptop after the first steps have been set in motion, finish the tea. I see your expression - you were talking, weren’t you? You want me to respond. I replay the recording of your voice my brain made - ah, of course, sex. Hmmm, why not._

_“Can’t say it’s all it’s cracked up to be - they’re usually entitled little fuckers. I think I’d prefer a bodyguard - better body, doesn’t think the world revolves around him...”_

 

You flash me a look, and it's like an arrow puncturing my flesh. _Thunk._ Message received. I check my phone, and see a message waiting from the driver. Perfect fucking timing. I slide on my aviator shades.

"Driver's here," I say, all business. You collect your laptop and head for the door, seemingly without a care in the world. I glance outside. The driver is waiting outside the door. I step outside first, and survey the scene.

"After you, Sir-" I say and you walk to the limousine. I gesture with my head at the luggage, and the driver collects it. Then the door is locked, and I'm joining you in the back seat. Shutting the door firmly. Raising the dark partition. Leaning back against the seat and lowering my shades.

"All right, rock star- why don't you show me what it's like?" I cross my arms. "Entitled. Little. Fucker."

 

 

 _"Well you nearly spoiled it for yourself you stupid big fucker. Fuck's sake Moran, I hired you because you are the best and you never let your libido distract you from your job before. I *_ _do*_ _hope that was a one-time slip-up and you're not going to start making *_ _mistakes*_ _now you're in love, because then you'll be demoted from second in command to trophy wife *_ _very*_ _quickly."_

_You look at me perplexed and cross. I sigh._

_"Oh get with it Moran. You called me *_ _Sir*_ _in front of the driver. Thank fuck he was too far away to hear. Who would *you*_ _call Sir? You're the most powerful man in London. Sure, there *_ _might*_ _be some delusional rich bloke who insists on hiring *_ _you yourself*_ _as his bodyguard *_ _and*_ _on you calling him Sir, but would you let them come to your *_ _house*_ _? And then *_ _fuck them in the car*_ _?!"_

_You look pissed off, but at least you have the common sense to look sheepish as well. I think that it's been a long day for you, and then - I am as surprised as you are when my hand reaches up and strokes your face._

_I catch your startled look and stare at my hand in an equally puzzled expression - since when do I *_ _pardon*_ _errors?!_

_"I'm... not sure what's happening there," I grin, staring at my hand, and you start grinning as well. "I guess we're both out of it... " I snigger._

_"Anyway. The rock star treatment should wait until we're not with our own people - as far as the driver is concerned, let him think you finally got yourself a toy boy, roughed him up a little, now are taking him somewhere abroad. So not too much deference until we're out of sight."_

_I climb onto your lap, grin broadly. "That will explain the way the car will start bouncing in a bit much better, don't you think?"_

 

 

I grin back, and slide my hands around your hips - what else can I do with a lapful of you? I'm so glad you backed off, because I was not going to handle it well - being called to task just one day after my year of mental breakdowns and suicidal urges seems more than a little harsh - but I guess we'll have plenty of time for talking about our feelings - right, Jim?

Right now, I don't give a shit about it - or anything, except feeling your cock inside me. Yes, technically I had this last night - no, this morning (Fuck, what a mental day...) - but I was riding you, and even though it was mind-blowingly hot, right now I so badly want you to fuck me, I'm shaking.

I think I understand why you couldn't before - but now the look on your face is all desire and arrogance, and it sends a wave of heat and lust through me. You kiss me, and nearly tear my lips off. This means your lip is bleeding again. I ignore the throbbing in my jaw, as you devour my mouth and my tongue snakes out to lick your blood.

I feel myself getting hard, and thrusting my hips up to meet yours. I lean back against the seat, my fingers grasping your hips. "I want you," I groan. "Inside me. Don't make me wait any longer..."

 

_Fuck, it's good to be out of that place with all its shadows - I'm already feeling more myself again. And you - oh god you look absolutely delectable in that suit and with that grin on your face. You pull me up against you and I kiss you hard, my lip splits open again but I don't care, you lick it off and god, I want you. I want to *_ _own*_ _you again. Yes, I love you, and the sex we had last night and today was amazing - but the careful sweetness of the last fucks isn't me - isn't *_ _us*_ _. You need to be subdued as much as I need to subdue you - I saw that in you when I first met you, and I see it now - you're looking at me with such longing to be controlled. The basics of who we are hasn't changed - I'm a sadist, plain and simple, and you've searched the entire world for someone who could finally make you submit. I was terrified to get back into that dynamic because I didn't want to hurt you - I mean, I *_ _do*_ _, oh god yes I do, but just your body, not your soul. But... I think I did more damage with my words than I could have done with a knife, so obviously abstaining from power dynamics in sex is not a guarantee for an unharmed Seb._

_So - we'll have to be careful, and communicate, and all the other stuff that normal people apparently do._

_But for now - you want me to claim my territory, and you're all but begging for it and *_ _fuck*_ _I want to *_ _possess*_ _you, I want to claim you, I want to hear you screaming my name in pain and lust, but it's only twenty more fucking minutes to Heathrow, and the driver might get confused if you are shouting Jim, so the good stuff will have to wait until we're in Mexico._

 _But fuck you - that I can do. I grab at your trousers, pull them off you as you are panting and pulling at mine, looking at me with those beautiful blue eyes, *_ _begging*_ _me with the look in them, and I get off your lap, point to the floor - thank goodness these cars have an insane amount of legroom - and speak the familiar words that feel so good in my mouth: "On your knees."_

 

Something comes over you, and I see it in your eyes, and fuck _yes_ Jim, I don't know what's going to happen, but I want it, _fuck_ I want it... You're pulling off my trousers, and I'm lunging to get yours off you, and then-  
you're ordering me to my knees.

 _Holy fuck_...

I drop in an instant.

And now I'm looking up at you, waiting, because it's not up to me from here on in, is it? The look on your face is brutal, beautiful, _Mine_... please, Jim. Make me Yours, and don't be gentle.

 

 

_You're on the floor in a fraction of a second - and your eyes are practically ablaze. No question about you wanting this then - but then there wasn't anyway._

_God, your face - such yearning. I know Seb - I've been back for about 24 hours now, but... now *_ _I*_ _am back. Not your lover, not your partner in crime, not your whatever - your master. Your owner. Your god. Your devil._

 _And god you've missed him. And I've missed you like this - on your knees, your shoulders subconsciously drawn back, opening yourself up, surrendering to me, to my will - my Tiger. The most lethal man in London, and utterly and completely mine. Do you have any idea how hot it is to have this sublime image of masculinity, strength, power, at my fingertips? I point, you kill. I snap my fingers, you stop. I nod, you punch. I glance down, you're on your knees. *_ _Fuck*_ _, I love you._

_I reach towards you - you don't move, hardly breathe. I slide my hand into your jacket pocket, where it closes around a tube. You had every intention of this happening, you sly big fucker._

_I take off my hoodie, fold it neatly, get up, get down behind you, move your legs apart and place the folded hoodie in between them before I kneel down behind you - these car floors are so rough on the knees._

_Then I place my hand on the back of your neck, push you down slowly, until your cheek is flat on the chair. Not much time - but we don't need a lot of time, do we? You want to feel this._

_I put lube on a finger, push it inside - careful, but by no means gentle._

 

You're staring down at me, and _fuck_ , it's like seeing my Love morph into my Higher Power - Jim deified... and I'm already on my knees, and it feels like supplication - _TakeMeClaimMePossessMe_...

No words are spoken, but we don't need words, do we, Jim? I see 'submit' in your eyes, you see 'already yours' in mine.

And when you reach for the lube in my jacket pocket and look knowingly at me, it's so hard not to smirk - but my face stays still, and I watch to see what you'll do.

Things have changed between us in a big way, but now we're getting back to fucking basics - the foundation of our bond. It's in the way you palm my neck like you own it, push my face down to the seat, and slide a finger into me - firmly, possessively.

I close my eyes, breathe deep, feel my internal muscles tense, and then surrender. _Already yours... already yours..._

 

_I can feel the desire radiating off you like a physical sensation, and it fuels my inner fire. No time, no need to be nice about it - I push in a second finger, move them apart, feel you shiver, yield, surrender... the ultimate act of devotion, devotion to me, fuck, Sebastian, I want you, I need you, I will take you, because that's how it works - Jim Moriarty takes what he wants, and oh god, has he ever wanted to take anything as badly? And has anything ever been so desperate to be taken?_

_I slather a last bit of lube onto my cock, and pause for just a second, to see *_ _you*_ _, finally see the complete picture of you - Sebastian Moran, my second in command, the love of my life, the only friend I've ever had, my property. It takes my breath away._

_I grab your hip with one hand, line up with the other - you relax, you have excellent mastery over your muscles, you yield, and I enter - and with every bit I progress the world is becoming more right - me claiming my territory, my possession, my control - you surrendering, submitting, giving over control to me - a relief to us both. It's been so tense the past day, and yes, we have a lot to sort out, but here, now, this - is right._

Now there's a second finger spreading me wider, and there's such sweet burning pain, and tremors of desire moving through me. Over my shoulder, I can hear you, sense you, lathering up your cock with lube, and there's a long pause where my eyes are closed and I'm begging silently, _FuckMePleaseFuckMeJim_ , because I've had to wait _so bloody long_ \- for a goddamned _year_ , I dreamed of you fucking me every day, _every single day_... It was excruciating, and it tore me to pieces, and please don't make me wait any longer, because I'll know you're really and truly back when you're inside me, claiming me at last...

 _Jesus_...Your cock thrusts its way into me, such sweet burning pleasure, sharp intake of breath, head thrown back, eyes closed - _this_ is what I've needed... _fuck yes, give it to me_... We're in a car speeding towards an airport to go to another continent, but I've just been returned _home_. I hiss out a long breath, and I feel your pace pick up speed and intensity.

 _FuckIMissedYouFuckINeedYouFUCKILOVEYOU_... I realize I've said it out loud, my face pressed against the seat, my hands gripping into the leather, groaning as your cock slams into me hard.

 _"Fucking own me..."_ I whisper in a feathery-soft, barely audible voice, my eyes squeezed shut. I have no idea if you hear, but you're fucking me like you own the motherfucking universe, and I'm hearing wild laughter bounce off the walls of the car, and I realize it's mine and I listen to it morph into a moan like someone's _dying_ \- _Yes_ , just let it all end here, with your cock buried in me, your initials scored into me, your fingers bruising my hips, possessing me, making me _YoursYoursYours_... _Jim_...

 

_Home. I'm home. Not the apartment which will be gone soon, not treacherous tarty London, but you. You are my home, and I am literally inside you, and I would crawl further inside you if I could, disappear in you._

_You are lost in rapturous bliss, clawing at the leather, hissing, moaning, saying your delicious mantra again - I don't think I'll ever tire of hearing that. It's making me swell up with pride, love, joy..._

_And then you say 'Fucking own me...' and that's making an entirely different side of me swell._

_No, wait... it's not *_ _different*_ _, it's also me, it's who I am, who you are, who we are, and it's good; it's not horrible, it's not shameful, it's not damaging you, it's what we both need; relax, Moriarty, you can hurt him without *_ _hurting*_ _him. You know what is reasonable and what isn't - you're not stupid. There is a grey area, of course, but we can work that out._

_Look at the guy - you couldn't harm him more than by depriving him of this._

_Look at the guy... God, yes, look at him... Oh *_ _fuck*_ _you're hot Sebastian. You're fucking delicious and you're mine, *_ _mine*_ _, all mine, forever and ever, you swore, I swore, never ever apart again, wherever we go, it'll be Moriarty and Moran, always, and I will *_ _fuck*_ _you and *_ _own*_ _you in so many ways known and unknown to man, god, you're perfect, just perfect, you're going crazy underneath me and god - yes - this is the release we both needed; let the driver think what he will - your boy toy has to be good if he wants to make it back alive anyway._

 _You keep repeating *_ _YoursYoursYours, Jim*_ _, and it's making me well up in more than one orifice, fuck, I've heard this before, but it's never penetrated so deeply - never been the most important thing in the fucking universe. Well, it was, but now the universe is bigger and more meaningful. Or something._

 _This isn't going to last long, but it wasn't supposed to - it's meant to be raw, quick, dirty, and exquisite. "Mine. You're mine. Everything - mind, heart, body, and soul. Sebastian Moran, I *_ _own*_ _you. Forever. You are so fucking hot and god, I love you, I love you, you're mine, mine, mine..."_

 _There's no elegance left to this fuck, if there ever was to begin with, I ram inside you, hard, deep, fast, and I feel the universe contracting in preparation for explosion, all I know is you, you, you, Sebastian, *_ _MINE*_ _..._

 

_Christ_ , this is so much better than I thought it would be... I was hoping for a down and dirty shag, but I never expected _this_... something's clicked into place, and you're possessing me, and I'm being claimed by you, and it's fucking beautiful, and oh, Jim...

the things you're saying... _Jim_...

"yes, _all of it_ , take it all, Jim...I'm yours... I'm _fucking_ yours, baby..." and then I'm groaning loudly as I'm reaching the precipice...  
and then- screeching tires, and the car is swerving, and we're thrown sideways hard, and my head bangs against the door, and _Jesus Christ_ , I can't _reach you_!! My heart is slamming in my chest and wild panic is breaking loose because _I can't protect you_ , but you're throwing yourself over me and grabbing onto me so tightly, and the car is swerving again and this time we're slammed backwards against the seat, and you land hard against my back. We're panting, and now the driver's tinny voice is coming though the intercom, "My apologies, sir- someone's tire blew out in front of us. Is everyone OK?" "Fine- we're fine-" I manage to say, and punch the intercom button off. And I look back at you, and our eyes are so wide, and we both start to laugh breathlessly, and then we lunge at each other to kiss hungrily - and it's like we're poised at the end of the world, but it's not, it's only the fucking beginning... and I realize all this being thrown about has wedged your cock into me even further, and you're pressed against such a sweet spot and your arms are still so tight around me - I start to grind against you, moaning, and we break off the kiss, and throw ourselves into some spectacularly down and dirty thrusting, _FuckYesJimFuckMeFUCKMEMakeMeCome..._ and then I'm keening, _keening_ " _Fuck... Fuck, Jim..._ "

 

_*FUCK!!!*_ _The car - swerving - no seatbelts - we're going to die - Sebastian - NO - *_ _NO*_ _–_

_I grab onto you, throw myself over you, holding on; if we slam into something I'll be a buffer between you and the wall, you might be alright, please –_

_Swerve back, stomach in my throat, the driver's voice - we're ok. We're alright. You're alright. You smile, you breathe, you laugh, I stretch to kiss you ferociously, and we're back at it, the adrenaline only fuelling our frenzy further, and you're keening, completely lost in ecstasy, and I am trying to hold back, I want you to come, I want you to come just from my cock inside you, and I can feel that you're close, I can hear it in your voice, feel it in your shivers, the way you clench around me, come on Sebastian, come for me, my love, my slave, my husband, my entire fucking world, "Come for me..."_

 

 

You're moving inside me like it's Life or Death, and somehow it feels like it _is_ , even though we just brushed against Death, and came out safely on the other side. Or maybe it's the knowledge that we're this close to the edge all the time, especially the life we live, and either or both of us can tumble off to the side in any given moment - and now that you've been returned to me like a gift from the motherfucking universe, I'm aware of just how much is riding on our staying alive - together. Because honestly, Jim? If you go, _I_ go- I'm _not_ going through that shit again.

So yeah - This next-level post-marital fuck is all about life and death, and whether we're alive or dead, Jim - _I'm with you_. This is the conclusion I've reached when you implore me, _order me_ to come for you, and I don't even need any stimulation of my cock to get there when I hear your beautiful fucking voice that's so unlike any other, and your arms are still grasping me so tight from when you threw yourself over me to save me, and I'm succumbing to a wave of shuddering so hard it leaves me panting. "Come with me," I gasp, "Come- inside me- Jim-" and I pause for an instant before beginning the slow tumble into violent spasms of moaning ecstasy.

_Oh, yes, you are doing it, you are coming for me, because of me, and you're asking me to come with you, and oh god yes I will - your muscles moving against me, your trembling, your *_ _voice*_ _, your moans, GOD, it's *_ _so good*_ _to be back; I feel like I have been walking a tightrope since last night, constantly on the verge of falling off, but I finally found my footing. The constant debilitating fear of losing you has finally abated - I will never lose you, it's impossible, you couldn't exist without me - I know I told you this, but now I actually *_ _feel*_ _it is true. Nor I without you, but I knew that already. We truly are symbiotic._

 _And the universe contracts to a pinpoint in my balls, before exploding in a big bang - I try to keep my voice to a normal volume, Sebbie's toy boy wouldn't be *_ _too*_ _vocal, and especially not saying what is pouring out of my mouth - which except for a healthy dose of fucks, supplications to deities I don't believe in, repetitions of your name in various forms, and unintelligible syllables, features "I love you I love you fuck I LOVE YOU!" and "You're mine, all mine, forever..."_

 _It feels like my orgasm expands through us both, filling me up, spilling out of me into you, and through you, making you absolutely insensate, you're shouting things too, I hope my brain is recording them for later playback, because at the moment it's not capable of parsing words; and as I pour myself into you you shoot your seed against the seat, having come from me fucking you and ordering you to come, and god, Seb, I can't wait to... I don't know... we have the rest of our lives and it's *_ _too fucking short*_ _to do everything I want to do with you. I want *_ _everything*_ _; I feel like I've never lived, like I've always just been watching projections on a wall like in Plato's Cave, and now I'm 36 and I'm led out into the sunlight and it's almost too overwhelming but I want to drink it all in, every little fucking drop of it; and I'm finally spent and shaking and lying panting on your back, holding on to you, feeling the car reducing speed, and hoping that it's just some lights and not bloody Heathrow already, because there's no way I can move._

 

 

This is some kind of mindfuckery, I'm registering on _some_ level- I'm coming because you _told_ me to, you're coming at the same time because I _asked_... my mind understands this really is some epic next-level fucking...

But in the moment, all I've really been thinking is, "OhMyGodYou'reSoFUCKINGHotILoveYou" and "KeepFuckingTalkingOhMyGodI'mFuckingComing" and "ComeWithMeBabyComeWithMePleaseILoveYou" and "FuckFuckFuckILoveYourCockYouFeelSOFUCKINGGOOD" and I honestly have no idea what I've said out loud and what I've only thought, but it's been pretty loud and heated between you and me, and I could really fucking get used to this... after 4 years of unexpressed angst and emotions and a year of Nothing But Pain, I need a lot more ecstatic shouting in my life. Especially from _you_ , my Mine... the sound of your voice and your words are all it takes to set me off, and the next thing I know I'm groaning gutturally and coming hard against the leather seat, and you're shaking and spasming inside me, and my mind completely blanks the fuck out, and it's all just violent shuddering and moaning that seems to go on forever, until I return to consciousness and you're collapsed against me, panting and sighing, and not letting me go.

I could just stay where we are for hours, kneeling on the floor of the car, collapsed against the seat, with you in me and on top of me... but the car is slowing down, and I'm getting a panicky feeling... I raise my head and glance out the tinted window and I groan with genuine despair."Oh for fuck’s sake... oh, you _cunt_ …  Jim, we're at bloody Heathrow... _fuuuck..._ "

I drop my head against the seat, and my mind goes fucking blank.

 

_I grin and point at the intercom. "Better tell the driver we'll be five minutes before he gets out and opens the door on us." Then I carefully slide out and off of you so you can move._

_You look at me blankly, then follow my instructions. My, I really have fucked your brains out, haven't I? I thought that was just a metaphor too._

_I smile broadly, hug you close in a passionate kiss. "I love you."_

_It's so great to be able to say that. To mean it. To feel it. I don't think I will stop saying it any time soon. And isn't that what you're supposed to do during a honeymoon?_

_For a moment we hold each other close, enjoying the feeling of each other's beating hearts, but Mexico awaits, so we clean ourselves up as much as we can with tissues, get dressed again, and I suppress my beaming smile for my subdued expression. As the driver opens the door for us, it's pretty obvious we've fucked, but he ignores me mostly, which is as it should be. He carries our luggage to the waiting plane, then gets back into the car and drives off._

_Right. Rock star time. I change my posture from subdued fuckboy to arrogant little twat hiding from attention, and walk up the stairs in front of you. The stewardess is all friendly professionalism with an undertone of excited curiosity as she shows us our seats, puts up the little walls for privacy. I whisper to you and you tell her that we'll have some champagne and to bring us the dinner menu. As she walks off, I take your hand and squeeze it, and your smile when you look at me illuminates my existence._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist:  
> Wave of Mutilation (UK Surf) - The Pixies  
> Never Let Me Down Again - Depeche Mode  
> Here Comes Your Man - The Pixies  
> Bang a Gong (Get It On) - T. Rex  
> Suffragette CIty - David Bowie
> 
> "I'm taking a ride with my best friend  
> I hope he never lets me down again  
> Promises me I'm as safe as houses  
> As long as I remember who's wearing the trousers  
> I hope he never lets me down again  
> We're flying high  
> We're watching the world pass us by  
> Never want to come down  
> Never want to put my feet back down on the ground"  
> (Never Let Me Down Again - Depeche Mode)


	4. Outrun Our Ghosts

I wasn't looking forward to the travelling part, but the flight is so surprisingly restful. There's absolutely nothing we have to do, and we fill the time by drinking champagne, eating, watching films and cuddling under blankets. We nap, sometimes with clasped hands, other times with your legs thrown over mine. I try to convince you to let me suck you off under the blanket, making you giggle and chide me. I mercilessly mock the crime films we watch, adding lines of dialogue for the characters in ridiculous voices. ("Pardon me - could you please bludgeon me to death since I'm a bloomin' embarrassment to criminals everywhere?" "Oh, happy to oblige - I'll just use that socket wrench and make it as painful as possible... Will that work for you?" "Yes, thanks very much... You're ever so nice. See you in hell!") You're grinning and laughing out loud, and it's so good to see you this relaxed and carefree. I wonder what things will be like in Mexico- at this point, I don't care if we ever get there. I look at the time, and lean over to you. "Jim - I just realized we passed the 24 hour mark since you came back, a _while_ ago. Day Fucking Two, and we're alive and well... and fucking married. I'm so glad I didn't kill you in that alley, little fucker..." I wink and raise my champagne glass to yours. "Sláinte, baby," I say softly. We clink glasses, eyes fixed on each other. Then we drink our champagne, and kiss each other, long and slow and deep.

 

_I've never told you I hate sláinte - and suddenly it seems the time. When the kiss ends, and we lie in the in-between space of the twilight of a night flight, everyone asleep around us, my head on your shoulder, I open up to you._

_"Did you ever wonder why I always say Cheers when you say Sláinte? No, you probably thought I was just replying in your cultural tongue as you were in mine - truth is, Sebbie, I really fucking hate Ireland. And everything that reminds me of it. I know I have the accent - too much effort to always put on another voice - but I... it's a shithole. And I'll never go back there, and wish I'd never been there, or had met any of its people."_

_I snuggle closer to you - we've never talked about either of our pasts, but it seems appropriate and safe in this little corner of the night sky._

 

 

I'm quiet as I consider this. After a moment, you look up at me. I take your hand.

"I think you can guess that I understand all too well... I - _hate_ where I come from, too..." I grit my teeth but I force the words out. "In fact, hate's not even a strong enough word..." I go silent, wondering what else to say that won't break the enchantment of this time together. "Anyway... I'm glad you told me, Jim - I won't say it to you again..." I pour the rest of the bottle of champagne into our glasses. "I've always liked _Skol_... the Vikings invaded England, kicked plenty of English arse, freaked the fuck out of the aristocracy... What's not to love about that?" I raise an eyebrow, clink your glass, and then down my champagne. Once you've drained yours, I take the glass out of your hand and place it on the tray.

"Sorry- thinking about my past brings out the worst in me... And I'd really like to not wreck the moment. Cos it's a really, really good moment - being here with you." I smile and squeeze your hand gently. "I love you," I whisper, and press my lips to your palm.

 

_“You’re right, Tiger,” I sigh. The memories are pressing onto the floodgates but now is neither the time nor the place. I tell them to fuck off to where they came from. Ireland or some other section of hell._

_“I’m... really enjoying this? Just being silly with you, like we used to be, but it’s... richer, more colourful, more significant. And... you can’t know how good that sounds, you saying you love me, just like that. Like... it’s the greatest gift you could give me and you just hand it to me, like it’s normal, and ... I’m not making any sense. I know what I mean, but it’s hard to put into words. Sorry.”_

_I look into your eyes, dark in the twilight, stroke your cheek with such tenderness, trying to put all my feelings into the gesture._

_“Sebastian Moran. My Yours...” I’m doing that thing again where I trace all your features; they haven’t changed since last time, but I want them in my tactile memory as well as my visual._

_“Oh, I forgot to say - I’m blowing up the apartment. Steve will come in and pick up your weapons first, your clothes, your books - anything else you’re particularly attached to? I noticed you let all the plants die. Even Catherine the Cactus. That must have taken some determination.”_

 

 

It's feeling more and more like heaven... nestled into blankets with you, surrounded by darkness, knowing that we can't get too deep into feelings or conversations... it's exactly the respite we needed.

You're talking softly about how much it means to you to hear a simple _I love you_ from me... Do you have any idea how many times these words leaped up from my heart only to slam against the locks on my throat? How many times I silently shouted it, crooned it to you, wept it in your absence? What it means to be able to say it now without fear - without my stomach bottoming out, or my heart leaping into my throat? I sigh, feeling a terrible, heavy weight release from my chest, that I didn't even know I was carrying. I feel momentarily light-headed, disoriented. But now you're staring at me and tracing my facial features with your fingers, and I feel like I could just die right here on the plane - and I would have had no regrets, except - _I haven't had enough time with you, Jim_.

!!!

The thought makes me blink - I was always so quick to toss aside any caring for my own life - only yours mattered. There's an unfamiliar feeling, to _care_ about what happens to me... my heart starts to race. I _care_ about living or dying? Fear and dread rise up in me. (It's too much, I _can't_ do it... I _won't!_ ) But now you're suddenly talking about blowing up the apartment (!!), and I'm thankfully distracted... but I know it won't be long enough. Pushing aside the thought, I try to focus on what you're saying.

"Uh... OK, Crazy... that's a dramatic way to go, even for you. _Yes_ , I want my weapons, _no_ , I don't give a shit about anything else... Although it would be _nice_ to not have to buy a new wardrobe." At your flippant mention of the plants, my stomach clenches at the thought of everything dying in me and around me during the year of Hell. " _Determination..._ that's one way to put it. Another one might be total annihilation." I stare off in the direction of the window, seeing the endless black of the night sky. "I was wrong - there's nothing crazy about it. It _should_ be destroyed..." My eyes glint, as I picture the explosion in the distance. I can hear the incendiary _whoosh_ and the roaring flames of the inferno. " _Burn, baby, burn..._ " I whisper lovingly into the darkness, and close my eyes.

 

_You're taking the destruction of our home better than I thought - too many memories for you there too, I expect. Christ Seb - will we *_ _ever*_ _outrun our ghosts?_

_I take your hand, place a kiss on your palm. Then - wait - I know how to distract you. I open my mouth and softly lick your palm with the tip of my tongue. Your eyes shoot to mine. I grin, move my tongue further up your index finger, close my lips around the tip, move it softly further in, circling my tongue around it. As expected, your mouth opens slightly and your breathing goes faster - mmm, you're predictable sometimes but in all the best ways. I pull your finger back slowly, look deep into your eyes as I move my tongue around your finger._

 

 

This is not how I expected the next few moments to go... I thought I would be haunted and pissy, and you would demand to know why, then get all maudlin and guilty, and round and round we'd go... instead you neatly skip ahead to a resolution by playing me like a goddamned fiddle. I might be annoyed if I stopped to give a fuck - all I know is you're _sucking my finger_ while staring at me pointedly, and I was done for the instant your tongue got involved.

I glance up the aisle to the toilets - I'm pretty sure they're unoccupied, and the few people in first class seem to be sleeping. But we've earned mile high club status before, and I'm not dying to get out of my comfy nest with you to squeeze into an aeroplane lavatory. I lean towards you.

"So, rock star… feel like being a little bit bad?" I challenge. You arch an eyebrow, and play off as being mildly intrigued.

I lean closer. "What if we didn't have to sneak off? What if we stayed right here and you just act like the entitled little fucker you are?"

"Mmm?" you respond, all innocence. “What do you mean?"

"What do I mean...?" I say softly, and slip my hand under the blanket. When I close it over your cock, I look at you knowingly - already getting hard.

"Something tells me you know exactly what I mean, little fucker..." I say breathily, and slide my hand under your waistband. My fingers close around you, and stroke once verrry slooowlly.

"Now I know what you're thinking... 'We could get caught, Sebastian!’" I speak in a lilting Irish accent, voice brimming over with horror - and I delight in the amusement that shines in your eyes, mixed with mounting pleasure. "But don't you worry about a thing..." With my spare hand, I pile up blankets around our waists, and make a dramatic sweeping gesture. "Nothing to see here, madam flight attendant. And if you see something..." I flash my killing smile at you. "Best keep walking..."

I stroke again, more firmly. "What do you think, Jim? Can you keep the noise down, no matter how hot it gets? I already know you're going to say _I'm_ the one who won't be able to..." I flick my wrist expertly, and you look through your lashes at me, breathing harder. "But I believe I'm up to the task... And if I'm not-" I lean in closer, pressing my lips against your ear, and whisper, "You can punish me for it in Mexico. Take it out of my hide, Jim - like the clever little sadist you are..."

Your breath catches, and I hear the beginning of a growl in your throat.

 

_I feel a growl coming up at your invocation of the clever little sadist - well, you'll meet plenty of *_ _him*_ _during our honeymoon, don't you worry._

_I lean awkwardly over the ridiculous little arm rest dividing our seats - why doesn't that bloody thing come down? We can't be the first couple to fly first class to their honeymoon - and bury my face in your neck, bite your earlobe, still growling, feeling gooseflesh rise on your arm. I grin._

_"Oh, Sebastian Patrick Moran, you are a very naughty boy. Well, what are they going to do if they catch us? Throw us out?"_

_I move my hand to your trousers, unbutton them, zip down, feeling Little Seb already more than eager to participate - he never lets me down. As your hand closes more strongly around me, I stroke a finger from your base to your tip, followed by a nail, making your breath hitch._

_I whisper in your ear, "Clever little sadist, huh?" as I take your balls and squeeeeze... until you do the thing, the Thing that you do which you don't realize you do but which is hot as all hell - you breathe in in a little gasp, close your eyes, move your head slightly back, pulling your shoulders slightly back - exposing your throat like a wolf displaying submission. Your hand doesn't stop its gentle movement on my cock though._

_I bite the proffered throat - it would be churlish not to - and release my grip on your balls, move further up, take a grip of your erection, and begin moving slowly._

_"See, that's where you're wrong, my love," I purr into your ear, "I'm more than clever, I'm a genius. And you should know by now that I'm quite a big sadist." I bite your earlobe again, until you moan. "And you wouldn't have me any other way, would you?"_

_"No..." you gasp, your eyes still closed, a slight ripple of a shiver running through you, your cock twitching, trying to get even harder._

_"When we get to Mexico," I whisper, "At some point on the first day - I'm going to make you bleed. You get to choose how."_

 

 

Well... _something_ I said got to you... could it have been the last little bit, I wonder...? Because the next thing I know you've _unleashed_ sadistic Jim - biting me and fucking _growling_... my trousers being unzipped, and... _fuuuuuuck_... oh shit, Jim... _big sadist_ is right... your hand possessing my cock - your teeth sinking into me - your _fucking voice_... oh, fuck - what did I do? There's no way I can keep quiet when you're being like this... I'm gasping, eyes shut while you toy with my mind, my cock...

And now the threats have come out... - deadly Jim, masterful Jim...

"Oh, fuck-" I moan, thrusting against your hand. "You're going to have to tone it the fuck down if you don't want me to wake up the entire plane." My eyes fly open and look into the black shining pools of ink that are your eyes. You look fucking delighted. _Shit... what have I done?_

 

 

_You look at me with that utterly delicious look of apprehension, submission, and burning lust. Aw, are you sorry now you bravely boasted to be up to the task?_

_"What's that Sebbie, bit off more than you can chew? I'm sure a strong soldier like you can keep quiet under duress..." I keep stroking your cock, as you keep stroking mine... You didn't really think you could win this little game, did you?_

_"The lovely thing about a honeymoon is that you don't have to do *_ _anything*_ _but have sex all the time..." I whisper. "A lazy fuck in the huge bed. Sucking in the waterfall shower. Lying on the beach, kissing, cuddling, petting until we get too hot and go and shag in the sea. Tie you to a palm tree and leave you there while I have a leisurely swim, before coming back and fucking you hard..." I hear you suppress a groan._

_"And I'm not going to spoil all the lovely little surprises I have in mind... How I'm going to make you beg... Make you scream out my name, in agony and ecstasy... How I am going to use every. little. bit of you for my pleasure..."_

 

 

 _Oh God, Jim- Not - helping..._ I hiss a breath out through my teeth, my head thrown back against the seat. I cover my mouth with the blanket, and groan. If I admit I can't keep the noise down, I lose. If I start making ungodly sounds, I definitely lose. _All right, Jim - You've had your fun. Now it's time for mine..._

I bury my face into your neck. "Oh God, I want you to..." I moan softly. "Own me. Possess me. Make me bleed - Make me remember _the first time_..." And with those words, it's like time has stopped.

We stare at each other, enraptured by the memory of our first fuck - the things you did to me, the epic journey of possession you took me on - culminating with me chained to a headboard, streaked in blood and sweat, while you fucked me from behind, claiming me as yours, and I wept – _wept_ \- as I surrendered to you completely.

I shiver, and you smile at me fiercely, and we return to stroking each other with abandon. I gaze into your dark shining eyes, panting. "How you made me beg... how you made me cry... how you drove all other thoughts out of my head until all that was left was you. It's been nothing but _you_ ever since, Jim. You left your mark - scars. The _M_ on my back. Your presence in my soul..." At some point I realize, I'm not trying to get you excited any more... words are just pouring out of me. We're stroking each other hard now, our faces pressed against each other; I'm panting and whimpering. "I've been terrified of it, baby - being helpless under your control, under your knife - but now the only thing more terrifying is the thought of never having it again. I want you to- I _need_ you to- promise me you will- make me beg for it. Please..." I grasp your head with my hand, and cover your face and neck with kisses.

"Please, Jim-" I whisper, and feel your body quivering where I touch you. I hear a groan from you, and I smile wickedly against your neck.

 

_Oh *_ _fuck*_ _Seb - you would bring that up. And it's... incredibly hot to remember, but it was also... the... most romantic night of my life I guess? It was when I made you *_ _mine*_ _, and you were so fucking *_ _perfect*_ _in every respect._

 _I knew what you were like from the moment I met you... but you never completely know, do you. I'm smart but I'm not psychic. So that night... I was actually... nervous? I knew I was risking driving my best man away. I realized the risk was minor, but... I *_ _really*_ _didn't want to lose you. And not just because you were a good shot. But... I'm not someone for a tentative approach. I go hard or go home. Well. I was home. But anyway. I was pretty sure I knew who you were, what you needed, and how I could convince you._

 _*_ _Pretty*_ _sure. But it was still a risk._

 _And you resisted so beautifully, trying to maintain your dignity, your sovereignty, the illusion of control... Until you couldn't pretend any more. And... god... it was sublime. Your tears. Your blood. Your desperation. Your surrender. It wasn't the surrender of a man tortured beyond his resistance. It was the surrender of a man who had *_ _finally*_ _found what he'd been searching for. It was the release of an unreasonable burden carried for too long._

_That night, you came home, Sebastian Moran, and you never left, no matter what happened, because you were bound to me with ties that went way beyond shackles and threats. That night, I gained the greatest prize imaginable, and I didn't realize half how great until last night._

_My own groan draws me out of my reverie. Keep it down, Moriarty..._

_I bend to your ear, panting, god Sebastian, *_ _anything*_ _, anything you want, anything at all, especially this, especially the strengthening of our bond, especially this confirmation of you being the hottest fucking soldier I've ever laid my eyes on, anything for you..._

_"I promise, my love..." I whisper against your ear, strengthening my grip on your cock, "I promise. I will make you cry, and writhe, and sweat, and curse, and moan, and whimper, and bleed. And you are going to beg for it.”  
I draw my head back, look at you._

_“Poor Sebastian," I say, with genuine feeling, "I left you alone for *_ _so*_ _long and you were *_ _so*_ _lost. I swear I will make it up to you. You're home again, Sebastian. Home has changed a bit - it will be more welcoming - but it's still the home you need and crave. It's still my absolute control. I will never leave you on your own again Sebastian... Fuck... Sebastian... God I love you..." I really really *_ _really*_ _need every ounce of self-control not to make more noise but I can do this, but you're moving so deliciously and you are so fucking hot and I love you so much and fuuckkkkk I can't keep it down, I need to, shit why didn't I put a blanket in my mouth, I press my face against your neck; I am not making noise I am not making noise I am NOT...._

 

I hear a strangled moan coming from deep within in your throat. Triumph surges through me for the briefest moment- until I realize my body is responding to your noise, and I'm already overcome by your hand on my cock, and all your words that have poured over me like honey, and I'm swamped by images of our first night together and why the _fuck_ did I invoke that memory if I was trying to keep the noise level down?? _Seb, you fucking idiot..._

I close my eyes, panting and feeling desire mounting to an almost unbearable level as you stroke me harder and faster, and I respond in kind. I'm stuffing the blanket against my mouth, and I'm filled with frustration... I'm about to have an epic orgasm, and it's going to be squelched by caring about what these rich fucking tourists think.

My eyes narrow. _I don't fucking think so..._

Suddenly I'm laughing, and you pull back to look at me. Your eyes are dazed with desire, and you're so fucking beautiful, here in the darkness, your leg thrown over mine. I drop the blanket I've been holding to my mouth and place my hand against your face.

"What are we doing?" I pant. "You're a fucking force of nature and a god among men, and their rules do not apply to us... If we want to have an orgasm in first class, we _fucking do it_."

Grinning, I pull your face to mine. I start to kiss you, slip my tongue into your mouth, and find myself moaning as you kiss me back. " _Jim..._ Oh god, _yes_ …"

 

_I grin broadly - oh Sebastian Moran, you absolute legend - or knobend, one of the two. Or actually, probably both._

_You're right, of course. Why would we abide by the *_ _rules*_ _? When did we ever?_

 _I giggle but damn, your hand is doing some quite amazing work down there, and your moan is sending vibrations straight down to my cock, which in turn makes *_ _me*_ _moan, and I'm not keeping it down, because my moaning makes you pant even harder, and we have a pretty good virtuous cycle going here. Our hands, still under the blankets, move quicker, and my eyes are closed when I hear an "Excuse me?" in the wrong voice._

_That's not your voice. I don't want to hear anything that's not your voice._

_I open my eyes and oh for fuck's sake, some gobdaw is looking at us with moral indignation written all over his ugly mug. You've noticed him too and are turning around. I give him the death stare, his mouth falls open, he looks from me to you and he is looking satisfactorily terrified. I grin at him, his eyes grow very wide, and he scurries._

_We get back to the business in hand. "You naughty naughty boy Sebastian," I whisper in your ear, "frightening an upstanding member of the public. Pun not intended."_

 

 

You're into it... _oh god_ , you're so into it - and now that we're not holding back... it's so _fucking_ hot - your moaning... your hand on my cock... my hand on yours.. moving so hard... so fast...

And then- that gobshite _speaks_ to you. No one gets to _speak_ to you without permission. I want to shove him into the toilet and tell him not to show his face for the rest of the flight, but - I'm not fucking moving from this spot. I'm shooting a look of death at him which has him shitting bricks, but obviously it's _your_ expression which gets him literally scampering down the aisle - no one can inspire pure, unadulterated terror like you, my love.

You whisper in my ear and continue to stroke me, and I laugh.

"Yeah, well - when the two most dangerous men in London want to have a lovely wank in first class - back the fuck off," I growl. "Now - back to that gorgeous cock of yours-" I stare at you and slowly lick my palm, then resume stroking you. Then we're making out like teenagers, and soon we're reaching a fever pitch of stroking, panting, moaning.

"Come with me- come with me, baby-" I gasp. "Oh, _fuck_..."  
Up ahead, I see a flight attendant pop her head out from the galley, looking perplexed - then shocked - then amused - and then disappearing back around the corner.

 

 

 _I'm panting, getting close, fuck, I've missed you, fuck, I love you, fuck, how did I ever exist without seeing that, you're the most beautiful, sexy, sweet, lethal, fucking *_ _amazing*_ _man I've ever met and I wasted so much time not using you to your full potential. We're going to make up all that lost time, Tiger - fucking with feelings, shagging with sentiment, conscious fucking coitus; because it's so fucking great - this is not the first wank we've shared on public transport, but it feels like the first shy gropings of two teenagers behind the bike shed, too overcome by infatuation to care about who might see. Your wrist has not forgotten any of its training and I'm getting *_ _very*_ _near, and you moan into my ear 'Come with me, baby,' and that's it, I'm done for, your voice is ambrosia; the timbre just right to send a shiver down my neck and I don't suppress my groans as I come into your hand, and, I'm afraid, on the airline blanket; we'll have to tip the flight attendants well, because pretty soon you do the same._

 

 

_I don't fucking care who hears..._

_I don't fucking care who sees..._

And if anyone has the gall to say shit about it... to even give you a _look_... they will not forget this day.

All I care about is that you're _coming_... you're coming, again because I asked, and what kind of connection _is_ that, Jim? It turns me on so much, makes me so motherfucking hard, as you're groaning and coming hard into my hand, that I start shaking, and then I'm shooting into your hand and onto the blanket, too.  
I collapse against the seat, panting hard. I see you've done the same, and you're trying to catch your breath.

"Fuck... that was... fuck," I gasp, putting my hand on your knee. I look in the compartment of the back seat, and find a couple of wet wipes - I tuck one into your hand, and clean myself off as best I can. I zip up my trousers and stare at you as you clean up fastidiously, including the blankets, and I smile. "Hey," I say softly. "Come here."

You look down at the arm rest between us, and back at me, pointedly.

I grab you and haul you over the arm rest, pulling you into my lap. You make a half-assed show of protesting and glaring, which I don't believe for a second, because then you're resting your head against my shoulder and sighing. You bend your knees and drape your legs over mine. I could just stay like this forever... I slide my arms around you, around my kitten. You always got snippy when I called you that, but - try to stop me now. I chuckle softly. You twist your head around to look at me.

"That was really fucking hot, Kitten..."

"Shut it, Moran...”

I see your eyeroll, and I grin. "You're fucking adorable... _OW_... when has violence ever solved anything, Kitten?" I say archly, and then burst out laughing against your shoulder.

 

_You’re way overstepping your boundaries, but oh well. I’ll not deny I am a bit like a kitten - nature’s perfect murder machine, in an incredibly cute package. Don’t call me kitten if you don’t want to feel my claws though._

_I’m feeling utterly relaxed, underway to god knows where, in your arms, safe from the world; and I don’t recall ever wanting to be held safe but then I also can’t recall ever feeling safe. I was always preparing for disaster, assessing situations, picturing worst and best case scenarios and anything in between, manipulating, adjusting. I never could just... rest and be. I thought that was my life. I didn’t realize I was missing out._

_And then sometimes I’d wake from a nightmare and there would be a big lump of a soldier in the bed, between me and the door, and the big lump would hold me without saying anything until my breath had calmed, would give me water, or just moisten my lips if I was shivering too much, would light a cigarette and pass it to me, and would never ask, would never mention it in the cold light of day, how I’d clung to his arm trying to get my heart rate back to normal._

_And sometimes I’d do the same for the soldier. And not mention it._

_It’s strange just being in your arms, in *_ _public*_ _, without reason, without shame, without hiding it in the folds of the night, a shameful secret never to be mentioned._

_I decide I like it._

 


	5. We're Fucked Up

After I've pulled you into my arms, I realize - whenever we held each other in the past, it has always been under the right circumstances, with extremely specific parameters - none of which have been met here. Even then, I was never sure if I was going to be rebuffed, or somehow punished for it in the morning. Worry chews away at me, even as I feel your body relax into me, and your breathing becomes deep and rhythmic. I resist the pull of sleep - I need to think about how this possessive, impulsive act may have made you feel (and secretly wonder if I'll ever be able to just do what comes naturally without worrying about how it makes you feel)… but the lure of sleep is too strong, and it pulls me under into the darkness, amidst echoes of laughter and sighs.

… We're in Mexico, wandering through a street market. Under the clear blue sky, there's an air of celebration - people are singing and laughing. We're sampling food from carts, pawing through the wares of vendors. We hold hands, touch, kiss sweetly - but you keep looking back, worried. I'm hearing whispers from increasingly worried-looking street vendors - _El Jefe?_ Where have I heard that before? The sky is becoming overcast. Vendors are beginning to pack up.

I look at you, and you seem sad and resigned. You touch my face. "I love you, and I tried." "Jim, what are you talking about? What's happening?" Metal and glass clink loudly, and everything shakes - I look around in a panic. The street is deserted, littered with confetti and streamers. The sky is becoming dark, too fast. I look back to you and you point behind me.

I turn to see a limo driving slowly down the street. It stops in the middle of the road, and you walk around to the other side and get in. The door slams. I rush over, and start knocking on the window. The window comes down, and I look in to see you in the back - black suit, a red rose at the lapel, and sunglasses. "Who are you, and what do you want?" you snap. "Jim- it's Sebastian..." I protest, and you look at me like I'm crazy. " _That's_ Sebastian," you say coldly, and point. I lean in to look at the seat opposite yours, and see a man with my face - predatory, alert, disaffected. "Sorry, mate-" the other Sebastian says in a bored tone, and suddenly a gun is pressing against my temple. "Boss says you'll go too far. You always go too far..."

 

_I'm sleeping, but not deeply. You're moving too much, and muttering - huh. Here I was just thinking about nightmares and it appears you're having one. I'd better wake you up before you shout something down the plane - we haven't exactly endeared ourselves so far._

_I look at your face - you look so desperate, so afraid - you mumble my name –_

_Oh god._

_You have nightmares about me._

_Of course you do._

_I know I'm many people's worst nightmare, but it hurts to realize that I am yours._

_But it makes sense - I doubt anyone has made you suffer and fear as much as I have. And that triggers another guilt trip. Damn. I really could do without these. Quite an annoying side effect of feeling love. I wonder if you can get one without the other. Probably not._

_You're whimpering in a desperate voice, and I stroke your head, kiss your cheek._

_"Sebbie? Sebbie, you're having a nightmare," I whisper._

_You wake up, look at me with fear and confusion._

_"What did I do to you?" I ask._

 

You're looking at me with concern, stroking my cheek. I look around the plane, and back to you, needing a moment to catch my breath. I try to speak- "You-" I rasp, then shake my head. You hand me a bottled water, and I take a sip, clear my throat.

I take a long breath. "You- were like you - used to be. You didn't want me - you wanted an obedient killing machine." I break off, feeling bitterness swamp me. I'm not sure why I'm telling you all this. Why the fuck am I telling you? Say you don't fucking remember, arsehole! You're looking at me intently, with a mix of fear and guilt on your face. Well... you wanted to know...

"There were two of me - You gave the other one an order - to shoot-" I break off again, shaking my head. I guzzle the rest of the water, throw the plastic bottle against the seat in front of me. "To take out the lesser assassin, I guess." I smile at you fiercely. "But if there's one thing you don't need to worry about, Boss - it's my killer instinct." I look around, and see the flight attendant with a cart, proceeding down the aisle and handing out menus. "Oh, look - breakfast. I'm just gonna head to the toilet before they block the fucking aisle." I manage to stop myself from bodily lifting you off me, and wait for you to get up and sit back in your seat. I force myself to walk, not storm into the lavatory - and once I'm in and the door is locked safely behind me, I fall against it, breathing hard.

 _OhFuckOhFuck..._ What do I think I'm _doing_? I can't just _be myself_... eventually the honeymoon will be over and you're going to have enough of my mouthiness... and it'll be business as fucking usual - like the glimpse of Moriarty I saw in the car. My heart is pounding in my chest, I'm breaking into a cold sweat, and I'm struggling to breathe. Get it _the fuck_ together, soldier. I manage to draw in a deep breath, and I turn to face the mirror. I look into my eyes, and I glare at myself. "Enough of the histrionics, Moran. I mean it... Stop your _fucking crying_." I slam my fist against the mirror, and it hurts like a motherfucker. _Shit._ Now my fist is bleeding. And I didn't even crack the mirror! Inexplicably this infuriates me, and I slam my fist down on the soap dispenser. It breaks off from the wall, and soap and blood go flying. _Fuck_. I suck at the blood seeping from my hand while looking at myself in the mirror. I wipe at the blood with paper towels, hold them in place until the blood slows - then stuff them in the bin. There's no way I'm going to hide this from you for long, but - it's not like you've never busted up your hand blowing off steam. Feeling strangely better, I pull down my sleeve. I glare at myself in the blood-splattered mirror. He needs a soldier? A soldier he shall have. I wipe the droplets of blood from the wall, the sink, and the mirror. Then I unlock the door and shove through it. By the time I get back to my seat, the flight attendant is handing us breakfast menus and offering coffee or tea. I throw myself in my seat, smile at you like nothing has happened, and ask for coffee, black.

 

_This is - not fun to hear. But important to hear. You are afraid - so afraid that you're having nightmares about it already - that I'll go back to how we were._

_Fuck, that's hard to swallow. To realize how much you must have hated how I treated you._

_Fuck. Why did you stay then? It's not like I forced you. You were addicted to me - hated and loved me like a junkie hates and loves his smack. Damn._

_I have to make you realize that I won't go back to that, that I-_

_I stop myself. How do I know?_

_It's been what - 32 hours? I fell in love, got married, and am convinced I will feel like this for ever and ever - what evidence do I have for that?_

_*Fuck!*_ _Why am I a fucking psychopath? I don't *_ _know*_ _anything about how feelings work. I know how they work in *_ _normal*_ _people, but not in me. What if I wake up tomorrow and the feelings are gone again? No more love, no more guilt, just blandness like always? What do I do then? Would I even be disappointed, or just relieved that they’re gone?_

_I could fake it for you for a bit I guess - but would I be indifferent to what you feel? Will I be the same arsehole as I was? No, I wouldn't do that - well I think so *_ _now*_ _, but what if I stop feeling again?_

_Please, please, god, universe, whatever - don't take this away from me. Please. I don't want to lose this. It's so painful but it's the best thing I've ever had. Please._

_You come back from the loo, your face carefully hiding your distress, hiding your hand from me - you cut it punching the mirror. Poor Seb - you're really worried._

_Fuck it I *_ _must*_ _put you at ease. Regardless of whether I'm sure - I'll fucking fake it. I swear now. I'll make a mental instruction._

_ Brain _ _: Apply conditioning._

 _ Category _ _: Highest priority. Overrules everything, including self-preservation and destruction of Holmes._

 _ If _ _situation = my feelings suddenly disappear again - > follow protocol:_

 _ A _ _: dig. Feelings were there before, just buried. Instruction: dig them up again. Dig deep and dig far and get them back._

 _ Moratoria _ _: Don't be afraid. Don't be tempted to not feel because it's easier. Don't listen to yourself saying you can't stand the guilt._

 _ Desired result of A _ _: Feelings are back._

 _If not: go to B: don't tell Moran. (Don't you. Ever. Make him suffer again. Swear. Swear on your life.)  
Instruction: keep Moran happy. Treat him well. Be fucking *_ _nice*_ _to him. Keep him healthy and *don't be a dick*._

_I lean over to you. You’re ordering breakfast in that voice you use when you’re upset and don’t want me to know. I order my own coffee – black, two sugars – and wait until the flight attendant has moved on before touching your hand where you have cut it._

_“You know that the dream reflects your own fear, don’t you? You are afraid I’ll turn back to who I was. You are afraid I won’t accept you as a human being any more, just start treating you like a tool again.”_

_I turn your head to face me. You resist, but I increase the pressure, and you give in._

_“I can understand you’re afraid of that, but I promise you, Sebastian, it won’t happen. I am not that guy any more. I’ve seen you, the real you – you’ve seen the real me – and it would be like trying to get a chick back into an egg; it’s not possible. Fuck Sebastian, I *_ _married*_ _you – that’s not something I thought I’d ever do. You are – more important to me than myself, at this moment. And I don’t know if that’s a side effect from the infatuation or a lasting effect, but you will *_ _never*_ _go back to just being a toy and a tool – you never *_ _were*_ _just a toy and a tool, I just tried to convince myself you were._

_Whatever happens in the future, I won’t forget this, and I promise. I swear. I won’t treat you like that again.”_

 

I let out a long sigh. My head falls back against the seat, and I close my eyes tightly. "This feels like going _insane_ , Jim... I know what happened is real, I believe what you say is true, and yet-" I press my lips together, and struggle not to let my face crumple into tears. "There's this mind-assaulting fear that just gets its hooks in me, and it feels like I'm going to be torn to shreds. I keep reaching a state where I feel better than I could ever imagine feeling in my life, and then I get sucked right back down into - whatever _this_ is. Hell. Will it always be this way, Jim?" My voice breaks. "Is this all we deserve?"

  
The flight attendant appears with our coffee orders. I put the mug to my lips immediately to cover my face, close as I am to breaking down. As she sets your mug down, she smiles. "Newlyweds?" she asks, knowingly. I almost choke on my coffee. I feel your eyes on me, and I struggle to respond - why is it so hard to answer? Why are you waiting for _me_ to answer?

"Yes," I say, firmly. Well, I _sound_ confident, don't I? I look down and realize my hand has found its way to yours, and is squeezing hard. I feel you squeeze back, and the vice that has been gripping my chest begins to release.  
"Not to worry, my dears," she grins. "It's a beautiful thing to see two people who are so deeply in love. How long have you been together?"

I look in your direction involuntarily, almost frightened of what I'll see there. My eyes are pinioned by your intent gaze.

"Five years," I say quietly. "We've been together five years..."

There's a big part of me that felt it was all just in my head, Jim - that we weren't an actual couple all this time - but somehow, saying it in front of this lovely woman, and seeing her beam at us in response, makes it... real. Despite all the resistance, denials, and dysfunction, we were a couple... _of course_ we were... And another part of me that has been trapped in anguish this side of forever just _lets go_.

"Well, I'd wish you luck, but you two don't need it..." She leans in conspiratorially. "I've been doing this job for sixteen years... and I can tell the people who are going to stay together, and the people who aren't. You two are lucky to have found each other - just make your relationship your top priority, and you'll be fine. And it doesn't hurt that you're both _so_ ridiculously hot." She winks and straightens up.

"I'll be back with your breakfast orders, Sirs."

She walks away, and we're left staring at each other, still gripping each other’s hand like we're holding on for dear life. I place my other hand against your face. "I need to hear you say it, Jim..." I say intently. "However fucked up things were before you came back... have we been a couple all this time?"

 

_Oh dear. There's so much happening in that big head of yours - and there's a lot riding on the answer to that question._

_A couple. Have we been a couple. What a question, Seb..._

_The answer you're looking for is obviously 'yes', but I find myself pondering the issue before answering. I do want to answer truthfully - I'll have to explore what's up with *that* at some point too. I never much used to value the truth when I was the deliverer._

_My initial gut response is 'of course not, but we are now', but is that true?_

_Well, what is truth? There are three truths at play here - my perception, your perception, and the objective 'reality' which may or may not actually exist without perception. We’ll leave the ontology for another time._

_My perception - well. I didn't see us as a couple. I was James Moriarty, untouchable. No one got close to me. I was in a league of my own, far above the milling crowds. You were - with me, but not my equal. Nowhere near. A favoured servant. A reliable employee. A chosen courtesan._

_That was my *_ _surface*_ _perception. And with my new-found knowledge of lurking feelings? Huh..._

_I recall- panic when you weren't home on time from a dangerous assignment. The guy stabbing your arm and the red hot rage it invoked in me. You seducing a girl as part of a mission and the black anger in my stomach, even though you acted on my orders. The support after nightmares - never acknowledged, but given as well as received by me. Me merging our bank accounts - it was easier, pure convenience..._

_Yeah. I was definitely in some sort of love. I did it off as possessiveness, expedience, all the little lies I told myself to not acknowledge the *_ _feelings*_ _._

_Your perception - I don't know. You were definitely in love, and less in denial about it than I was. Did you see us as a couple? ... in some ways, maybe, but... you knew I was a heartless bastard._

_I’ll need more data on that._

_Then the unbiased reality. Looking at it from the outside - two men living together and shagging - that's pretty much the definition of a couple, isn't it?_

_So –_

_"Yes. Yes, we were. Not a *_ _good*_ _couple - it was an abusive relationship. Co-dependent. Toxic. Whatever other epithets Cosmopolitan can come up with. But. We loved each other. Even though we - well - I - wouldn't acknowledge it, we clearly did. And we were devoted to each other. Again, it seemed a bit one-sided, and I apologize for that. But twisted, unbalanced, cruel it may have been - it was a relationship. We were a couple. And we will remain a couple. Forever. We promised._

_I know I was an arsehole, but I promise it will be different –“ I stop when I realize._

_“Heh. Fuck. I sound like every abusive husband ever. Great,” I snort._

_“I’m sorry, my dear battered husband. I won’t promise I won’t beat you again – but I do promise I won’t beat you without your permission and enjoyment. And if I *_ _ever*_ _slip back into those old patterns – tell me. And I promise you now, solemnly – I may get pissed off, may wander off to clear my mind, whatever, but I will never hold you warning me about our relationship against you._

_Our relationship is inviolable, it’s *_ _ours*_ _; and if either of us has worries about it, it’s the other’s duty to take that seriously, and to work out how to work things out, and –_

_Sorry, is it just me or do I sound like bloody Dr Phil?” I can’t help a laugh._

_“I’m sorry. This is all new to me and I can’t help but feeling I’m talking ridiculous hippie shit. But I know, deep down, that it’s all true and necessary and stuff. I just never expected you and me to talk about relationships.” I grin despite myself. This is a fucking absurd situation. The criminal mastermind and his deadly assassin discussing ‘what are we?’_

_Oh, it’s lovely to be a normal person sometimes._

_I take your cup, put it on the tray table, grab your collar and pull you close. “I fucking love you, Sebastian Moran,” I whisper in your ear, and kiss you passionately._

 

I feel like I'm holding my breath as you consider my question, never taking your eyes off me. I force myself to breathe in, and breathe out, and I remove my hand from your face. I'm just breathing, trying desperately to keep from demanding an answer - what's taking you so long?? I breathe in sharply as you begin to speak.

It's so hard not to slump against the chair from relief. It wasn't in my head. _It wasn't in my head.._.

I feel a surge of triumph. I was _fucking_ right. You _did_ love me, you little fucker...  
Oh, _abusive_ … we're going _there_. _Abusive husband... battered husband..._ Your words swirl around in my head, echoing... I don't like it. It makes me feel embarrassed... _angry_. You don't understand, and I'm disappointed... It wasn't out of weakness... is that what you think? Well- that's aggravating as hell - but still better than knowing why I had been avoiding anything resembling a healthy, loving relationship my whole life- I break off from the next thought. _We're not going there... Ever._ Back to you. You're finishing your lengthy speech. Then declaring your love, and kissing me.

I warm to your words, your kiss. A single worried thought pierces through my glow like an arrow - is being happy and in love going to put us in danger? _Not as long as we're fucked up, and torturing ourselves_ comes the answer from dispassionate part of my brain. OK, well - that's something. But we can still be happy sometimes? _Yes... just don't get too comfortable. Happy sometimes is OK._

Now I can surrender to the kiss. My tongue moves with yours, my lips press into yours. When we finally break apart, my lips feel swollen. "I fucking love _you_ … James Moriarty..." I breathe, and press our hands against the initials over our hearts.

"Till we're claimed by death, and then into the next world," I whisper into your ear. _"I'm with you, Jim..._ "

The lovely flight attendant appears from the galley pushing a cart and handing out breakfast trays.

I breathe in the smell of sausages as trays are delivered, and my mouth waters. "Do you want a mimosa, babe?" I ask, eyeing the approaching cart as my stomach starts to grumble. I look back at you, and the expression on your face takes my breath away. You're looking at me like I'm the only one in the universe, and I'm no longer thinking about fear or danger or anything, except how much I'm looking forward to this week of pleasure with you by the sea; how I want to spend every sleeping and waking moment with you; how I want our fuckfests to surpass anything we experienced during our first four years of our relationship, cruel and twisted as it may have been. Before you went away and tore out my heart. Before you came back and tearfully, lovingly returned it to me. Before my poor, battered heart began to heal, and expand, and beat in sync with yours, safely nestled under _JM_ for all time.

 

_'To death and on into the other world'? Huh. Never thought of you as the transcendental type, but I can see why you would say that - the thought of *_ _ever*_ _being separated from you is unbearable._

 _I'm looking at you. You look troubled, worried, and happy at the same time. I *_ _so*_ _need to dig into that brain. I have no idea what's going on with you any more; and I need to - I need to know everything, so I don't damage you more than you already are - by others and me - and because you are the most fascinating human being in the universe. How did I ever not see that? How did I ever think Sherlock fucking Holmes was more interesting than you, just because his brain is more like mine?_

_You're so fucking beautiful, smart, sweet, mysterious, incredibly sexy, and I'm going to explore every inch of your body and your mind in this honeymoon._

_Do I want a mimosa? I'm not sure - I'm still half drunk from the champagne and we didn't sleep much. Better not. I'm not as used to alcohol as you are. "I'll stick to orange juice, darling, thanks."_

_It's so odd to be able to call you darling in a non-mocking way, just such a common and casual term of endearment, people use it all the time, without realizing how special it is to be able to call someone that, without fear, without inhibition. I'm going to call you every pet name under the sun in Mexico, see which I like best._

_We get our breakfasts - yours as usual vast, mine more restrained, though I need to eat some grease and carbs to absorb the champagne and get a clear head again. I ask for another coffee with my orange juice._

_When we land in Mexico City, we have a two-hour changeover , so I stack up on supplies - mosquito spray, sunblock for me, more reasonable sunscreen for you, a honeymoon-worthy supply of lube, decent body wash, shampoo, and conditioner, rather than your horrible cheap stuff. As I browse through the souvenir shops an interesting artefact catches my eye - hmmmm._

_I rejoin you with several bags and a big smile, and distract your curiosity by showing you the bag of duty-free rum and tequila, for our nights on the beach, drinking and making love under the stars._

_Our flight to Mahahual is only an hour and a half, and I sleep much of it, keen to be reasonably awake when we get to our destination. When we land, a lanky middle-aged man is waiting with a sign for Mr Lambert. I smile my winning smile and introduce myself as Douglas Lambert, accompanied by my husband, Ferdinand Lambert._

_A short drive later, with lots of accented Spanish which I half understand, mostly about how everything we might possibly desire is present in the house and if we need_ _anything_ _else at all just to ask him,_ _anything_ _clearly hinted to involve anything illegal or immoral, which will save me the trouble of getting in touch with old contacts, we arrive at a large gate leading to a whitewashed villa fifty feet from the sea. Our home for the next however long we want._

 

 

While Mr Álvarez shows us through the house, pointing out things we might need to know, we trail behind him. I take your hand, and occasionally try to grab your arse, which makes you shove me and snicker - Mr Álvarez takes our murmuring to each other as commentary about the villa, and gets more enthused by all its features every moment. I just want to be alone with you at last. My Spanish is incredibly rusty, but I manage to get across to him that we'll be just fine, and would let him know immediately if we needed anything. (Yes, we understand you mean _anything_.) He continues talking as I usher him to the front door. "Vamos," I mutter under my breath, and he shakes my hand before finally leaving.

I lock the door behind me, and turn to see the massive foyer, the grand staircase leading to the second floor. I'm not sure where you are, and I start to ponder the possibilities... Where are you? Naked in the huge bed? Naked in the waterfall shower? I push aside thoughts of where and how I'd like to find you, and close my eyes. Where would you be, Jim? I feel myself being drawn forward, as if being pulled along by a thread - through the foyer, down the hall, past the huge gourmet kitchen and dining room, and through the sliding doors onto the gigantic patio with ceramic tiles. Past the luxury freeform swimming pool with one side bordered by large rocks. Past the hot tub, and the outdoor shower. I step onto the sand of our private beach and walk towards you - your back is to me, and you're facing the ocean. I move faster as I get closer. When I reach you, I put my hand on your shoulder, and turn you towards me. Then I pull you into a kiss.

We've had some fucking amazing kisses since you returned, but there's something about this one... the sea breeze, the sound of the ocean... knowing how long it took to get _here_ …

When the kiss ends, my hands remain on your face. "I'm so glad we're here, Jim... so fucking glad." I kiss you sweetly, and pull you against me - I feel your body's warmth, your heart beating against my chest, and I sigh.  
"Just so you know," I whisper into your ear, "I plan to have you in every room in this villa before we leave. Every single room." And I nip your ear lobe before resting my head on your shoulder and listening to the sea.

 

 

_There's something about the sea that fills one with... something. Some say God is in the feel of water. In the light that dances on its waves. I don't believe in God, but I do believe in the sea. The vastness, the blindingness of the midday sun reflected in the millions of pinpricks of light, it draws you in, makes you long to be lost in that endless expanse, to dissolve and be one with it. Every time I see the sea, I have the urge to just walk into it, keep walking until I disappear, never to return._

_I don't know how long I've stood there when I feel your hand on my shoulder and I return with a jolt to my body - I was miles away, drifting in the salty arms of Poseidon. I turn towards you, and the blue of the sea is reflected in the blue of your eyes. It reminds me of the way they looked when we were in the jacuzzi after our fight - it seems an equally tender moment._

_You pull me close for a kiss and it tastes of the sea and the sand and makes everything we went through in the past two days blow away on the breeze to be reclaimed by the ocean, leaving only you and me standing on a beach on the edge of the world, between land and sea, between one life and the next._

_And the next life starts with you pulling me close and my uninjured cheek resting against your shoulder, our hearts beating in a complex rhythm that spins universes around us. I see the future, all the myriad paths our destiny can take, and it makes me dizzy - I want to explore each and every one of them, see what consequences every action has, what the possibilities are, but they fan out in an infinite fractal pattern and not even my mind can map them all._

_You pull me out of my near panic at the vastness and unknowability of fate with your usual ease. I remember the days before I had you, how I'd get lost inside the patterns in my mind for days, not eating, hardly drinking, not sleeping, finally coming out of it only half conscious, the original questions long forgotten in the endless pursuit of new answers._

_But trust you. Trust you, Sebastian, to both acknowledge the immensity of this moment, and to pull us down to earth by invoking our carnal needs, successfully pulling my full awareness back into my body, and to your body, warm and solid and strong against mine._

_We stand there for a long time, holding each other, not speaking, both of us timorous to move, to step into this new reality, to take one path and obliterate all others. Finally I look up at you, smile, and whisper, “And what about the beach?"_

 

 

I press my lips to your forehead. " _Of course_ , the beach..." I whisper against your skin. "Tonight, Jim - we'll claim it for ourselves..."

I look out at the sea, my face pressed against yours, arms holding you tight. I sigh longingly, "It's so beautiful here..."

My eyes scan the property, taking in the palm trees lining our private beach. It really is like our own corner of paradise...

If anything can help us start over, Jim...

I pull myself away from you, and you look at me, bereft.

My hands skim across the fabric of your hoodie, and I pull it off you, discarding it on the sand. You look at me, smiling questioningly. I pull off my blazer, tie and shirt, throw them in a heap. Shoes, socks, trousers, pants are all deposited onto the sand. I close my eyes, lift my face towards the sun, and breathe in the ocean air... when I open my eyes, I'm euphoric. I kiss your palm, look deep into your eyes.

"Come into the water with me - I just want to wash away everything before this moment." I reconsider, placing your palm against my cheek. "Well, maybe not everything. I got you _back_... But for _real_..." I say softly, reverently.

My hands slide down to the hem of your v-neck shirt, grasp the fabric. I press my face to yours. "Come into the water with me," I whisper, breathing in the scent of your skin.

 

_I packed swimming trunks for both of us - I don't know why. This beach is private indeed, no one in sight. Mr Álvarez said the water here is safe to walk into barefoot, no coral or sea urchins. I pull off my clothes until I'm naked like you._

_This feels... oddly momentous. Yes. Like a baptism or something. Wash away the sins. I was baptized but I don't believe in that shit - I was only a baby, what bloody sins did I have, except for the inconvenience of my existence? And it's not like that was forgiven afterwards..._

_But there is something to it. Many cultures have a similar ritual, and I find I *_ _do*_ _want to cleanse myself from sins. Not against some sky demon, or society, or even my family, but the sins of all the fucking grime, soot, and sludge that is polluting our relationship. I've fucked up, but it's not about guilt... it's about ballast, about grit in the clockwork, about *_ _stuff*_ _pulling us down when we should be soaring._

_And you didn't say any of this, but I know it's what you mean when you talk about washing away._

_I look deeply into your eyes, feel the connection between us - this bond that has been there for so long, that made you know who I wanted dead even before I'd pointed, that made you *_ _smell*_ _danger to me, that made me know what you needed before you did, that bond, that's *_ _finally*_ _been acknowledged and formalized, and all the stronger for it. It's almost as if I can see it, shimmering between us. I reach out my left hand, take your right, and still looking at each other we walk into the waves._

 

Walking towards the sea, naked and holding your hand... seems as far as away as we can get from what life in London was like, and that's so needed. When we reach the shore, I pull you back to wait for a moment next to me. I watch the waves ebb and flow over my feet and the warmth of the water over my skin tells me this is actually happening - this is real.

I remember back to a couple of times when we were on a job in a country where it was warm enough to swim; I managed to sneak out while you were busy with your infernal laptop - just long enough to run into the ocean in my swim trunks that I had secretly worn under my trousers... then I'd swim for a few moments before sadly heading back to the shore. I don't know why I felt so anxious and guarded about these experiences - it just seemed like you would have disapproved of me doing something innocent and pleasurable without you - but then you certainly wouldn't have done it with me. So mostly I would go without - and just stare at the water wistfully as we drove through the streets towards another swanky hotel with a pool.

So to be going into the sea with you now... on the first day of _our honeymoon_ … is epic. For a moment I'm actually dizzy. But then I step forward, and you're walking with me. The waves are at our ankles, and then our knees, and then our waists... as the water swirls around us, I'm laughing softly. You look over at me, and you smile at me with affection - your face is practically glowing with it. Something else to get used to - is that even possible? It throws me into a tailspin, takes my breath away - I can't imagine that changing.

We're now submerged up to our chests, and then our necks... I look at you, and again, you just seem to know what I'm thinking. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and go under. Still holding hands, we walk beneath the waves just until we're floating above the sand - I open my eyes to see you hazily under the water. It stings, but I don't care. I move to you, slide my arms around you, press my lips to yours - and then we let go and float back up to the surface. When we reach the surface, we break away from the kiss just for a moment - _exhale, inhale_ \- and then we're kissing again, as we tread water.

 

 

_We will need to be fully submerged, have every bit of ourselves washed, and you understand this yet again without communication; we go under, together, keep going into the sea until the buoyancy is too much and the sea bed drops away from us. You take me, hold me, and there is a brief moment, before the pressure on our lungs gets too much, where we are fully floating and submerged, not touching either earth or air, just the water and each other, and we are embracing, and kissing, and that is it, that is the moment of lustration, where we wash away who we were and are birthed anew by the sea, heads first. And our first action as these reborn creatures is kissing, as is appropriate. You taste of salt and sweetness and new beginnings, and I feel words are called for, and oh hell why not continue on a theme..._

_"Do you renounce the past and all the forces of wickedness that rebel against us? Do you renounce the evil powers of this world which strive to corrupt and destroy us? Do you renounce all sinful desires that draw you from my love? Do you turn to me and accept me as your saviour? Do you put your whole trust in my grace and love? And do you promise to follow and obey me as your lord?"_

_I grin at you broadly, still holding you, still treading water._

 

I'm listening to your words as I tread water, one arm firmly around your back. My eyebrows are rising as you speak - are you going to say the whole thing, yes, _of course_ you are...

at first I'm amused... and then slowly I find myself becoming moved... and now I'm feeling quite swept away...

 _saviour_... well, you _are_...

 _whole trust..._ getting there... way more quickly than I would have expected...

  _follow and obey me as your lord_?? My eyes widen, and I consider this.

Well, you're just putting words to what already had been established - what I've always done, what I know now I'll always do... when you came back, I was so afraid I wouldn't be able to re-establish this dynamic, and I'd feel adrift at sea forever. But you are my anchor, my ship, my captain, my mission in life. On some level I know I'm not afraid anymore... of anything, except losing you.

I think back to the words of the baptismal ceremony, and the responses come back to me even though it's been an age since I've heard them.

"I renounce them..." I say solemnly, taking your hand from where it rests against my neck, and I kiss your bruised knuckles.  
"And I do." I kiss your lips lightly. A second time, more firmly. And the third time is long and deep.

"I'm not good with words like you are, Jim...but since I know you'll ask - here's my version for you."

I close my eyes, think for a moment and begin to speak.  
"Do you renounce the past? Do you renounce anything which could destroy us? Do you renounce _whatever_ could draw you from my love? Do you turn to me and accept me as your partner in all things? Do you put your whole trust in my love and devotion? And do you promise to cherish this relationship above all else, as something that brings us back to our hearts, and our souls?"

Jesus, where the fuck did all _that_ come from? Was that too much? My stomach clenches at the thought. I open my eyes to see how you'll respond, and hold my breath.

 

_Your eyes are getting wider and wider despite the bright midday sun on the waters. I hope I'm not pushing it with the 'whole trust' - I do think it will take you a while to wholly trust me again. I mean, I'm the bastard who buggered off and left you to rot, which was the worst thing I could have done to you - but it did bring us this, this new dynamic, which is so much better than what we had. And then 'follow and obey me as your lord' - well that is the old dynamic again but it should also be part of the new one, I mean, it's at the heart of who we are._

_You think back and speak back, and you renounce - and you accept, put trust, and promise._

_And you kiss me. And then speak yourself - I had not expected you to. You're always saying you're not good with words, but you're so wrong; you're just more economical than I am, but every word you speak is perfection._

_'renounce the past', and 'anything which could destroy us', 'whatever could draw you from my love'- fuck yes, all renounced with extreme prejudice._

_'accept me as your partner in all things' - ohhoh, that's a good one Seb. I know you hate, absolutely *_ _hate*_ _it when I keep you out of stuff. You seem to think that I'm at risk of being swindled, kidnapped, and killed the moment I do something without you. And to be fair, I was, at some point, each of these, if you count my 'suicide'._

_Oh god._

_Oh of course._

_You kept insisting you know what my plan was with Holmes, you *_ _knew*_ _something was iffy, and I just did it off as you being jealous..._

_Oh Sebastian, yes, sorry, no more secrets. My partner in all things._

_'put your whole trust in my love and devotion' - well I always did. Except when I didn't, and look where *_ _that*_ _got me. Bloody Tuscany. Yes, I trust you. Completely._

_'cherish this relationship above all else'_

_\- well that's the clincher isn't it. That's... what you want. What you've always wanted. And I never gave you. Because I'm a selfish bastard, and because I didn't even know there was a relationship to cherish._

_Damn._

_Right now, my heart wants to say 'yes of course Seb!' but then what if this infatuation dwindles? What if I get preoccupied with something else again - Holmes is still alive after all - and you start making unreasonable demands on my devotion? Or - well. Quite reasonable demands; but you know what I'm like when I'm in the zone._

_But then I realize that that is what vows are about - it's not asking someone to make a promise you know will be easy to keep. What’s the point in that? So what you’re asking me is, if I’m willing, *_ _now*_ _, to make a promise that may be hard to keep in the future, but which I will keep, because the object of the promise is more important than whatever else in the world. And you are, of course you are. And… you will be, even if I become a massive arsehole again who forgets it._

_Vows are a good idea, if you’re an arsehole like me._

_I look into your eyes as I speak: “I renounce them… And fuck yeah, I do.”_

_You let out the breath you’ve been holding and make to kiss me again. I let you for a moment, but then pull away._

_I run my hand through the water, get some in my hand, pour it over your head._

_“I baptize you Sebastian Patrick Moriarty. Gone the bond with your previous Lord, tied forever to me.”_

_I look at your face – your eyes squinting against the sun, it’s impossible to read your expression._

 

 

I'm so relieved that you accept my terms, more personal and strongly worded than our marriage vows. And then you do something which I never expected in a million years...

what... _what_??

My head seems to be filled with white noise, and then I realize a part of me has been silently repeating the name you've given me, over and over. There's a part of me that's all ego, feeling indignant, sneering, rebelling... like 'oh, so I automatically take _your_ name, huh. Do I even get a say in this, or am I just the little woman now?", and "Excuse me, Mr Moriarty, but you do realize you are talking to the next Lord Moran...?" but _wait, wait, wait, wait_ , I can't stand any of that, I loathe and despise the current Lord fucking Moran with every fibre of my being and want nothing to do with his cursed house.

And then there's a bigger part of me stepping forward, that feels young and star-eyed and in love - and this part of me is clutching this proffered name to my heart like a bunch of hand-picked wildflowers. That part of me is still whispering the name, hearing how it sounds, and sighing that all of my dreams are coming true, and I never could have imagined this would happen in a million years.  
So I smile at you, slyly. I growl, "It's about fucking time..." and I pull you into a crushing kiss.

Your body is pressed up against mine, and I'm pulling us back in the water, so we can stand. When my feet touch the bottom, I hoist you up, your legs move around my hips, and I kiss you like it's the first time and the last. _Sebastian Moriarty... Sebastian Moriarty…_

_You whisper the name over and over while your face remains bland - was that a step too far? You're not actually keen to become Lord Moran are you - except for the fact that it would mean your father's dead? But - it might be a bit - presumptuous? Well that's never stopped me from anything, but..._

_Then your teeth glimmer in the sunlight as your impossibly large grin breaks through, and you growl your approval and pull me into a kiss that crushes any doubts I might have had on how this went down, pull me around you, kissing me with total abandon, and I feel giddy, here in this sun-drenched sea, new, washed clean, with a whole life in front of me._

_I really do feel like a child - like I want to play with you in the water, jump like dolphins, throw a motherfucking beach ball to each other. I giggle - I haven't felt so light in... ever. Kiss you all over, your eyebrows, your hair, your scraggy beard - I really must talk to you about shaving - your cheeks, your lips, your neck._

_Our cocks rub together and suddenly there is nothing child-like about my interest any more._

_"Damn, Sebastian Moriarty, you're even hotter than Sebastian Moran... I thought that was impossible..." I cuddle close to you, bite your neck, your earlobe._

_"I... bought us a little Mexican souvenir at the airport... Fancy trying it out?" I breathe into your ear._


	6. God of Pain

"A Mexican souvenir?" I echo. "Are you going to give me a hint?" You smile slyly. "Is it better to try it out indoors?" You shrug, looking comically unsure of the answer. I laugh. "I'm guessing indoors might be better, and you've probably been in the sun long enough, anyway..." I walk towards the shore, your arms still around my neck, your legs wrapped around my waist. Soon the water is at my waist, and I continue to carry you easily. "Is it... tequila?" I guess. You shake your head no, but you're grinning gleefully. "Well, I have no idea... and now I'm getting nervous... but I did just vow to put my whole trust in your grace and love, and..." I smile wryly, "to follow and obey you as _my lord_ …soooo... I guess I'm trying out your Mexican souvenir?" We're walking out of the water towards the patio, and I deposit you by the lounge chair, where we towel off.

Then we head inside the villa holding hands, go upstairs, and climb into the huge bed. I spread out, and sigh with pleasure.

"I _love_ this bed... this is a bed fit for a rock star," I declare. " _And_ his hot, sweet bodyguard. So... where is this souvenir, and do I actually want to know what it is?" I ask, narrowing my eyes, but grinning indulgently.

 

 

_I dive into the wardrobe, rummage in our bags ('No thank you Mr Álvarez, don't trouble your wife, we'll unpack them ourselves, in fact, please don't come into the bedroom unless we ask you'), get things together into a plastic bag, and turn around._

_My face - different. Still me - no masks - but I know you can see the change, as you stop grinning, and swallow, your eyes going wider, your mouth opening subconsciously as your breath shallows._

_"We are going outside after all. So you better put some sunscreen on me," I say and handle you the bottle of sunblock. I'm getting pink already - bloody Irish skin._

_You rub the cream into my skin, without speaking, reverently. I put on a pair of briefs to protect the most sensitive parts, then - a moment of consideration - and I take your hand, kiss it, and lead you outside. There's no need to not be sweet while I'm being cruel. It feels good, natural, to let both sides meld._

_I walk onto the beach, to one of the palm trees that's standing reasonably out in the open, then open the bag and take out its contents - a pair of handcuffs and a black-and-white braided Mexican bullwhip._

My eyes widen. "I _knew_ you bought something else at the airport. Tricky... very tricky, Boss..."

I realize I've unconsciously slipped from the newer pet names to the honorific from our past. I look from the handcuffs to the bullwhip and back again.

"You don't waste any time... we've been here for what, an hour?" I feel a fluttering in my stomach. Did I sound nervous? I think I'm nervous. I just - didn't expect this so soon... I thought you'd wait before you...

Heat is spreading across my body, starting at my groin. Heart rate is increasing. Adrenaline is flooding my system... _Oh_... I look at you, and you're watching me closely. Staring at me so hard... I swallow, feel myself flush. "Where do you want me?" I ask, my voice low and rough.

_I’m watching you closely - I’m so bloody impulsive; I couldn’t wait like a few hours? I ask you to trust me, you say you do - quite something in itself - and I immediately feel the need to test that trust? Bloody hell, Moriarty._

_You look apprehensive. What do I do if you protest? That’s never been an issue before, but... what if you’re not comfortable with this yet?_

_But - oh yes, I do know you so well. Your cock twitches, your pupils dilate, your face flushes, and you hand yourself to me on a silver platter. God, Sebastian, could I love you more?_

_I pick up the handcuffs, motion to the palm tree. You put your hands around the stem and I cuff you to it. Then I walk around, hug you from the back, speak into your neck._

_“My beautiful Sebastian.... This is not going to be very gruesome. I am not going to make you bleed yet. But... this is something we both need. Our circumstances have altered, but... our sex life has always been based in pain, in power, and that hasn’t changed. But it’s different now - it’s given in love. I need to hurt you *_ _because*_ _I love you. And... I can see you need it. But... your voice will never be ignored any more. So I’m asking you - do you want this? Do you want to feel pain from my hands again?”_

I'm being handcuffed naked to a palm tree, and my heart is pounding.

I did just vow to give you my whole trust. And I _do_ trust you. But it's like bodies and emotions have to take their own sweet time to catch up to our minds, to the agreements we make with others, with ourselves... and sometimes they don't link up at all. I don't think that will be the case with us... but there's a deep wounding in me, deep dark pain that hasn't let go of me yet.

I know I can move past the nerves and physical tension, to connect with my desire for you, for what only you can give me... because I do crave it. Being fucked by you wasn't the only thing I dreamed of when you were dead, Jim...

I'm breathing to steady myself, make myself ready for your lashes, when suddenly I feel you pressed against my back, arm sliding around me. Your lips are brushing against my neck as you speak, and I quiver in response.

My eyes are widening at the things you're saying to me. You have not stopped surprising me in the last two days since you returned to me... but _this_ \- I thought this was the one thing that would remain the same...

Do I want to feel pain at your hands again?

I close my eyes. Part of me replies silently and quickly, no - why would I want that? Can't we just have a sweet, normal relationship?

The other part of me laughs uproariously at this response. Yeah? How long would you enjoy a sweet, normal relationship before you were climbing the walls? And think about what that would be like - never being tied up again... never feeling the sweet sting of your lash on my skin... never having you lick the blood languorously from my limbs, and then lovingly taking care of my wounds... _Never being dominated by you. Never hearing that cruel, purring voice. Never seeing the gleaming darkness in your eyes. Never-never-never-again-_ A whimper starts to build in my throat. My eyes fly open. "I want it, I want everything from you, _fuck I want it_ ," I snarl.

Breathing heavily, I turn my head in your direction. "Don't make me wait. Sir. I'm yours..."

 

 

_You're not answering for some very long moments and I panic - did I ruin it? Shouldn't I have asked you to be complicit in your punishment? Or - did I ruin my dominance by asking your permission? Damn it, why can't I read your mind?!_

_You whimper - whimper? What does that mean? But then - you speak._

_'Sir.' God - oh god I'm Sir again. And finally it's right. It's not said to a bewildered madman, it's not said in sarcasm or anger, it's said by the man who loves me to the man who loves and owns him. Surrender freely given._

_'I'm yours.' You are. God yes you are. And what did I ever do to deserve that greatest gift of all?!_

_But - your face, looking at me - filled with lust, submission, and such desperation - god, you *_ _need*_ _this, need this as much as I do, and let's not wait a moment longer, but *_ _calm down*_ _Moriarty, you want this to be special._

_I step back, trail my hand over your back, from your neck along your spine to your bottom. "So beautiful... such a delightful canvas to work with..." I trace the M on your back with a nail. "One couldn't call it pristine, but exquisitely primed, yes..." I lick a trail from under your shoulder to the back of your neck, giving you gooseflesh. I purr into your neck, "Sunkissed, slightly sweaty, warm, ready for my lashes... Ready to feel the agony and ecstasy of what it means to be owned by Jim Moriarty... Ready to feel the burning kiss of my love..."_

_My hands are nearly shaking with the urge to hurt you, to make your face contort in pain, to hear you cry out, and I won't prolong the suspense. I grab your hair, kiss you passionately, possessively, *_ _hard*_ _, let go, and pick up the whip. It's six foot long - not terribly long, but still not very easy to use indoors without risking yet more damage to the housewares. Mind you - they'll all be exploding soon. Anyway._

_I'm good with my whips - had plenty of practice - but every one needs feeling out, and I'm *_ _not*_ _risking your precious skin doing it. I move it a few times, away from you, make different cracks, until I have a feel for the thing. The cracks are good to make you shiver in anticipation anyway..._

_I got the balance, got the feeling - this is it. I let the first stroke fly across the top of your back. Not too hard, but not gently either - you will feel this._

_Oh god, oh god..._

It took me a while to reach the conclusion that I wanted this - _so fucking much_ \- and now it just feels like it's going to be so drawn out, and I want it now, but you won't give it - I know how you work...

When you trace the M on my back, it's all I can do to not suck in my breath...

When you lick my back, it's all I can do to not fall against the palm tree, moaning.

When you start talking into my neck... it's all I can do to not start fucking begging.

and then you're pulling my head down by the hair and kissing me hard...

testing the bullwhip, each _crack_ making me flinch and then I'm shivering, part with dread, part with excitement..

 

Just as I begin to fear I will never feel it...

_Cccrrrack_

there's a sharp stinging lash across my upper back, and...

I jerk forward against the palm tree.

my eyes widen.

my mouth drops open.

a cry of surprise flies from my lips.

I look back over my shoulder, and I see you smiling...

I already know I'm going to surrender to you _hard_ …

but how am I going to keep from weeping and begging you for it immediately, after waiting for so long...

my submissive nature has been suppressed and grieving for a year.

It's back with a vengeance...

And oh god, that was only one lash... _FuckFuckFuckIWantIt…_

_Oh *_ _god*_ _yes. Feeling the whip connect sends a physical jolt through my body that is ecstatic, sublime..._

 _I’ve done this a *_ _lot*_ _, with others, with you... so much with you, because you were so much more enjoyable than feeble cringers who cried for mercy, only encouraging my cruelty, and because you are so incredibly beautiful under the lash. Your face looks at me for a second and it makes me shiver, the intensity of your look - yes, it’s having the same effect on you._

 _I lash again, slightly under the previous stroke, and I hear a tiny moan escape my lips. This is... so powerful - not just because it’s been so long, so bloody long, but mostly because... what I said earlier was so true. I need to hurt you because I love you, it’s a physical urge even stronger than the urge to fuck you. And where fucking you and torturing you were great before, now *_ _love*_ _comes into the equation, it’s mind-fucking-blowing. Your trembling back, your face, your *_ _cry*_ _\- I’m overwhelmed with sensation, love for you pouring out of every facet of my being, rapture at your submission making me float, wanting to devour you, adore you, lacerate you - wow._

_A third lash lands over the top of the M._

_Cccrrrack_...

( _two_ )

 

Crying out...

knees weakening...

muscles trembling...

 

I look back again to see your face. I have to see your face... I heard you _moan_... knowing that this is affecting you so much... almost undoes me...

Your face is...

Jim Moriarty to the _n_ th degree

Jim Moriarty deified

Jim Moriarty as a force of fucking nature

Drunk with love and pain and desire, I want to fall at your fucking feet...

_Cccrrrack_...

( _three_ )

Crying out louder...

Falling forward against the palm tree trunk, pressing my face against the rough bark.

It's not from the pain, so stingingly delicious...

It's from being at your mercy again... surrounded by you...

everywhere, everywhere - there's only you...  
My mouth is open...

eyes are closed... trying hard not to start moaning or keening...

you can do this, Seb...

you can do this...

(But don't you just want to _let go_...? I imagine you whispering....)

 

Yes, Jim, _yes...again... AGAIN..._

_You look at me again and it’s... my breath halts._

_You’ve never looked so nakedly ecstatic before; in the original meaning - of someone in the presence of a deity. And it’s me. I’m your god. I’d said it before but now I *_ _see*_ _it._

_You worshipped me before but there was always a small reserve, a small bit at the core of who you were that you didn’t show, that you couldn’t surrender - I had you, body and mind, but you were afraid to give me your soul._

_And now here it is. Open in front of me. Every bit of who you are. It’s in your eyes, in your cry - vibrating through the air into my ears electrifying my brain - in the way your knees give way and you fall against the palm tree, desperately holding on to something concrete, something solid, because you are experiencing an epiphany and are completely overwhelmed._

_And so am I. Fuck, my hands are shaking so much I’m not sure if I can strike straight. I’ve *_ _never*_ _.. if I thought feelings were overwhelming before, now they’re all ganging up and they’ve brought friends. I love you so much it hurts, it actually physically aches; my cock is hard but I hardly notice it because my entire lower body consists of liquid fire; my eyes hurt because I’m forgetting to blink, so scared to miss only a fraction of a second of looking at you._

_The whip rises again and lands, rises again and lands, and my body is being charged up with every stroke until I feel I’m crackling with electricity, trembling with enraptured tension, the world shrunk to a bubble that only contains you and me - and the whip, rising, falling, carving away all the dross, slowly exposing the bare bones of who we are._

_My legs are shaking, my breath is coming in gasps, I can’t see anything but the stripes on your back as I make my way down, can’t hear anything but the cracks and your cries, moans..._

_God, Sebastian..._

 

 

Amidst all the cracking lashes, amidst my cries, there are thoughts that arise like radiant sunrises and flaming sunsets, endlessly cycling through me.

I thought the first time you whipped me was the deepest I could ever surrender....

I was wrong.

This time I'm not hiding anything from you in fear and trembling...

 

You're...

taking me farther...

than I've ever gone...

Oh, god...

Everything is stripped away, _everything_...

 

the pain and angst I lived with every day when we were together-but-not-together...

the devastation and annihilation that killed me every day when you were gone from this world...

the fear and angst that has gripped my heart since your return...

"Don't stop! Don't Stop! Again! Again!" I'm crying out, my face pressed to the bark of the palm tree.

 

You increase the speed and intensity and I feel like I'm in a lightning storm - and the lightning storm is you. I'm in the epicentre of your torrential rain, your flashing electricity, your cracking thunder...

I'm howling into the sky, unleashing everything I've experienced these past years with you, and even beyond.

  
"Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck..." I keen, “Jim... Jim... _Please_... All of it... All of me. _Please...Take. It. All._ "

 

And with that, I slide down the trunk of the palm tree and sink to my knees. My face pressed to the bark, tears squeezing from my eyes, I'm _moaning_ your name like a holy word, and it is, and I'm whispering, _Please…Please..._

_You *_ _howl*_ _and my knees buckle. It's only because stopping would be unthinkable that my body manages to keep going._

 _That howl is a manifest spiritual entity, encompassing the pain, fear, doubt, anguish, suffering of a lifetime with me and the rest of the cruel monsters of this world, and you're unleashing it against the palm tree, which I'm surprised to see does not wither and die on the spot. Tears spring into my eyes at the sheer hurt in that howl, but my arm keeps rising and falling, because that is what is releasing this, I'm *_ _literally*_ _beating the shit out of you... It would be funny if it weren't so heartbreakingly beautiful._

 _You keen, and sink to your knees in the ultimate gesture of surrender. You ask me to take all of you and once again I whisper "I do"; I take *_ _everything*_ _you are, everything you have been, everything you will be, I will cherish it all, and I take on the responsibility for everything that will happen to you, because you are mine and I don't know what I've done to deserve such a gift but I will do everything in my power to protect you from harm and to make you the happiest I possibly can..._

_... and still the whip rises and falls against your buttocks, your thighs... I see the tears, hear you moaning my name like a mystic repeating the name of god, and you whisper *_ _please, please_ _,* and with the last bit of strength that's in me I lash a penultimate time... and the last time, taking everything, all my love, all my power, all my strength, I give it all to you, Sebastian._

_I drop the whip, nearly fall to my knees, but I can't - I need to be with you, I need to touch you, I need to have you; I stumble across the sand, drop to my knees behind you, embracing you, the raw weals hot against my bare skin, kiss your neck, your shoulder, my arms as tight around you as I can, whispering "Seb... Sebastian... my wonderful Sebastian..." I realize tears are still dropping down and choking my voice._

The lashing stops.

Everything has dropped away....

There is only the pulsating echo of pleasure and pain and

_please..._

 

There is breathing in,

breathing out...

There are tears

flowing like a river...

and now there is

you...

Pressed against my raw, stinging back.

Lips on my flesh.

Arms around me.

 

 

I'm sagging against you,

breathing in,

breathing out.

Then- drops rolling down my back - blood?

No- tears in your voice, raining down on me.

_Jim..._

I look back, press my head against yours.

Can't see you...

Need to see you...

_Panic._

"Jim?" I whisper hoarsely.

"Uncuff me - please?... I need - to see your face..." My heart is racing, I'm aching to hold you. I lean back against you and let out a breathy sigh, waiting for you to release me when you're good and ready.

 

 

_I’d planned to fuck you still tied to the tree but I can’t, can’t not feel your arms around me, can’t not kiss you, see your face; I still want to fuck you but I need closeness more, and so do you; asking me to untie you, because you need to see me._

_I scramble for the key, unlock the cuffs, and fall into your arms. And everything is right._

_I embrace you, you hold me, looking at my face, kissing my tears as I kiss yours, as we grasp at each other with the desperation of two halves having been separated for too long. Your cock is rock hard, rubbing against mine, but the urge to *_ _hold*_ _you, feel your heart beat against mine, is greater._

_We kiss deeply. If I were to fall any deeper in love with you, I think I would faint. It’s nearly unbearable in its force. I want to kill the world just to make sure it could never touch you. I want to hold you closer than I can, I want to melt with you, my Sebastian, my love, my life._

_I realize I’m speaking out loud and you’re looking at me with such awe and love and joy, and here we go, I do fall deeper in love, and I don’t know where I’m going, it’s unbearable, it aches, it makes me moan._

I had thought maybe you were going to keep me cuffed to the tree so you could fuck me against it. And I've been hard since the first lash, so you wouldn't have heard any complaints from me - besides, you're in dominant Jim mode, and you can do what you want with me - I'm Yours.

But when the cuffs come off, I almost sob with relief - and then you throw yourself against me. I take your face in my hands, so I can finally check on your emotional state... and what I see completely undoes me.

 

I see a man utterly, helplessly in love - mad with love - drunk with love. Overwhelmed by it, frightened by the force of it... terrified he'll be torn apart by it, crushed by it.

 

I _know_ , Jim.., I _know_ …

 

But to see _you_ in the place where I've been floating adrift for the past 5 years...

 

makes me realize...

 

I'm not alone anymore. Tears are gushing now, and you're kissing mine from my face, and I'm kissing yours. My cock is sliding against yours, and it's almost painful in its intensity. But then you're kissing me deeply, and I forget all pain and desire, I forget everything but you...

You're murmuring to me about how deep your love is for me, and I'm so swept away - I can _see_ it coming over you like a physical force - and you fall deeper still.

 

And you've been the centre of my existence for so long now, I didn't think it was possible to love you more, and I was wrong, I was so fucking wrong...

 

I realize I've been talking out loud... and we're both holding onto each other, staring at each other, kissing with tear-soaked faces...

and as good as it feels to be sitting naked with you in the sand under a palm tree as the wind blows through the leaves and across the waves...

all I want to do is lie down with you for a century. I press my hands to either side of your face, and my lips against yours. "Do you want to go inside? I just want to lie down with you..." I say softly into your ear.

 

 

_You have a point, but my desire for you hasn’t waned. I want you; I want to be inside you; it’s the closest I can get to you._

_I look at you and you don’t need words to understand, you see my desire and you respond to it as you always have - your eyes growing darker, your breathing a bit faster, your body giving off those small signals of surrender._

_I get up, give you my hand to help you up, you stay so close as we walk to the beach chair and I grab a towel, spread it on the burning sand, pull you down on it, kissing again, losing myself, that’s what it is, it really is, I’m losing my Self, there’s no more I, just we. That’s quite momentous for a selfish bastard like me and I have no idea how I’m going to deal with that but that’s not a worry now. Now I need to merge with you as close as we can._

_I take the lube, squirt it on my hand, rub it on my cock, no time for pleasantries, I need you on me, now; I pull you up in my arms and you look radiant and famished and as dying for this as I am. You hover and position yourself over me, and I moan as I feel you, inching down on me, slowly, our eyes locked together, our hands intertwined, you shivering as you lean on me and little by little surround me._

_I’m looking up at you with what I hope is not an utterly witless face - I do feel completely lost, adrift at sea, battered by tidal waves of love, lust, desire, admiration, all words which are completely insufficient to describe the murderous intensity with which I’m swept about._

_You have made your way down, are slowly moving up again, driving me out of my mind, how can *_ _anything*_ _feel like this?! How can I bear this without exploding? I mumble words of love, of insanity, of passion, staring at your face._

_You are moving more comfortably now, looking at me in rapturous bliss. I move so I can sit up, clinging to you, kissing passionately. Manoeuvre my legs to either side of you. Stare into your eyes. Then lean forward, pushing you down on your back into the burning sand._

 

 

Just as I've established a rhythm for riding you, you're flipping me over onto my back. I'm thinking, ‘ _yes_ , fucking _dominate_ me' and then 'you're so hot, baby', and then a pause and 'oh my _fucking_ god, oh Jesus Christ!' as you grind my freshly whipped back into the hot sand.

" _Fuck_ , Jim!!" I yelp. I look up at you, and you're still pushing me down into the sand. You're grinning, your eyes flashing manically. Oh my god, my fucking beautiful psychopath...

I glare because I know how the game is played. "You think this is funny, little fucker?" I try to contain the smile that threatens to escape my lips.

By the way you grind your cock into me with a predatory smile, I'd say that's correct.

I throw back my head, mouth open - my back and buttocks are feeling like they're on fucking fire. The chafing of the grains of sand against my raw skin is beyond intense - I groan.

You're watching me with obvious pleasure, and rocking your hips against me. Your cock is so deep within me, I'm moaning, and it quickly become a dual cry of pleasure and pain.

There's no fighting this. I Just need to flow with the pain...

I can do that. I can do that like someone who's owned by James Fucking Moriarty.

But first - I speak as Sebastian Fucking Moriarty.

"Before this week is up, I will make you _pay_ , you sadist..." I growl. But then I'm grinning wildly, and you're staring down in feral delight. You lean down to kiss me, bite my lips, as you fuck me hard into the sand, I close my eyes, swept away by the rapture of being at your fucking mercy.

_You look and sound shocked - really, sweetheart? I can still shock you with cruelty? Like you haven’t experienced every conceivable suffering at my hands at some point?_

_I love you more than life itself, baby, but I am_ _*me*_ _, and I *_ _am*_ _pain_ _\- I cannot love without hurting, and you, love of my life, can’t love without suffering pain..._

_There’s a mental aspect to it that I want to explore, because it’s hidden and I don’t like it - I want you to be happy. But the physical pain - we need that. We both need it, now more than ever._

_And god, you look and feel *_ _exquisite*_ _. The way your muscles contract on my cock as your back touches the fiery sand; the way your face goes from initial shock to ecstatic surrender - and that’s it, my love, you need to surrender to me, you have since the beginning; all your life spent fighting to be the best, the hardest, the strongest, all the while desperate for *_ _someone*_ _to come and overwhelm you... never realizing or accepting that that was what you needed until you met me... We were a match written in the stars, invulnerable together, pushing each other up to unfathomable heights._

_You moan, cry out, as you let yourself ride the pain, let it fill you, as my cock is filling you. I get a glimpse of the unleashed Tiger in a threat of revenge; and that is *_ _fine*_ _, revenge can be delicious - we’ll see what mood I’m in when it rises up - but there’s no resistance. Not to me, not to my pain. There is delight, bliss, as we are both soaring in our orgy of pain, shouting our passion into the blistering Mexican sun, as I pour everything I am, everything I was, everything I ever could be, into the only man I have ever loved, the only man ever to love me, the man who bears my name._

 

 

Once I surrender to your pain (was it ever a question, Seb??) , I'm swept up in a wave of longing and desire so intense, I nearly come right then and there. And I remember... I remember _craving_ your pain, your cruelty throughout our tumultuous relationship...  
How it got buried deep under my own emotional pain and suffering. How I dreamed of it so often after you died - but it was torment, attached as it was to your cold, unfeeling face from dark days past.

I was so afraid... that if the infliction of pain returned to our relationship, then that side of you would also return. But looking up at your face, I see only your love, light and dark - shining bright; gleaming and devouring... and there you are, the man who _owns_ me, the man I _worship_...

 

I'm moaning as I feverishly watch you, my dark god with gleaming black eyes, writhing against me, grinding me into the sand... god of pain, god of fuck...

 

I'm moving against you frantically, and we're both shivering... shaking.. shouting as mounting desire seizes us, takes us over, driving us howling into orgasm... violent, pulsating, spasming pleasure pouring out of you-into me... out of me-onto you... feeling your body collapse against mine, pushing me against the sand with a sharp scrape... my eyes flutter shut with ecstasy... fuck yes, I'm yours, Jim... yours to hurt, yours to fuck, yours for always, yours, yours, yours…

 

 

 _I know I've thought that this is the best orgasm I've ever had with every orgasm since my return, but I'm pretty sure that this *_ _is*_ _the best orgasm I've ever had. Everything is perfect - the beauty of the location and the freedom of being away from London, the sweet intimacy between us after the sea baptism, the whipping - by no means harsh by our standards, but I don't think I've ever been so intensely affected by one - the feel of you contracting when I pushed you into the sand, the look on your face, during all of it, every bit of it, so harrowingly *_ _beautiful*_ _, so beloved; and the fact that you *_ _came*_ _at the same time as me, without any touching of your cock, just from me whipping and fucking you... Sebastian, my beloved Sebastian, wonderful Sebastian, you are perfection, you are the embodiment of love, I will do *_ _anything*_ _for you, anything..._

_Our hearts beat together, fast and hard, slowly getting calmer. Our initials touching - still applicable even with the name change; I had considered that. With superhuman effort I raise my head, which weighs five tonnes, and look at you. Your eyes open, look at me with such love, satisfaction, devotion... I raise a two-tonne hand and caress your cheek, kiss your lips, stare at you in raptured wonder. "Thank you," I say, which is probably a rather inane statement, but it's a genuine reflection of my feelings right now - total awe at what you've given me._

 

 

"Oh, my absolute pleasure," I pant, too fatigued to even lift my head. "My masterful man..." I curl my hand over the one caressing my face.

"Was that... the best?" I ask hesitantly. "Because I think it might have been _the best_...like, ever," I sigh, feeling euphoric. I look at you, and you give me a glowing smile - you have this way of looking at me that makes me feel like the most amazing, precious thing you've ever seen, and it melts my fucking brain.

I beam at you, and close my eyes... Listening to the rhythmic waves, feeling the wind on my skin, feeling your weight on me... your cock is softening in me, there's pleasing wetness in my arse from your magnificent orgasm - and you're not moving to draw out. When I open my eyes again, you're just lying there, collapsed on top of me, still staring at me and touching my face softly. What could be better? Could anything honestly be better?

"I just wanted to tell you... this has been the best day of my life, Jim..." I say, awe-struck and almost shy. "I know it's not even done yet. But being here with you has changed - everything. So thank you, my sweet..." I press your hand to my lips, and hold it against my face. "My beautiful Mine, my heart... thank you for giving me - you."

_We're still intertwined and it's lovely, but I feel myself sliding out and your legs must be getting tired. I release your knees, let you stretch them out, lean on my elbow, stroke your face, as you look up at me with such peace in your expression, it brings a lump to my throat. I've never seen you like that... not before today. And your words..._

_"Yes, my love." I'll never get tired of saying that. I used to hate that word; now I think it's a delight to pronounce. "It was the best. Everything. The best orgasm ever. The best day, ever - no contest at all. The best husband ever... Fuck, I sound like a fucking Hallmark card, and I couldn't be more delighted," I grin broadly._

_"We should probably get up - this sun is too bright even for you, you're getting red on the nose. We should have a nice cool shower, and then try out that gigantic bed... like you suggested *_ _before*_ _the best orgasm ever."_

_"Worst idea I ever had," you grin. "I'm glad you're in charge...”_

_We carefully get up and make our way to the house. There's a shower on the patio, which seems more fun than going inside, so I turn it to a lukewarm temperature and pull you under. You wrap your arms around me and kiss me, lightly, delicately, but so sweetly; and it reminds me of the kiss in the shower - not even two days ago?! It seems a lifetime... But I don't think I'll ever kiss in the shower without remembering that one, where we washed off our antagonism and finally started to come together._

_There is a soft sponge that I use to wash your back, using some stuff that says it's crema de ducha with áloe vera, carefully, lovingly, making sure every particle of sand is removed. Your weals look red and angry - but the skin hasn't been cut. No blood yet - you didn't ask. You won't have forgotten - you never forget - and you wouldn't think that I'd forget; so you're planning on bleeding later. I wonder what you have in mind._

_You wash me, we towel each other off without speaking, occasionally kissing bits of each other's bodies that we find specifically endearing, and make our way inside, where it's lovely and shady, drink a cold bottle of mineral water each, grab two more to take upstairs._

_The bedroom faces the sea, but the curtains are drawn and it's nice and cool after the burning sun outside. There's a bit of a breeze, making the curtains billow and the light dance on the wooden floor. The bed with its crisp clean sheets looks incredibly inviting. I lie you down on your front and put soothing cream on your weals. You make a purring noise which is too cute so I have to kiss every bit of your face that I can reach, including your ear which makes you giggle and squirm._

_We lie down facing each other, hands intertwined, smiling, making a game out of closing our eyes to *_ _really*_ _go to sleep now, then opening them again to notice that the other one has opened them as well… both of us unwilling to stop looking. Your face like this, happy, content, is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I can't keep my eyes off it... but finally slumber prevails, and I drift off._

_As I wake up the sun is getting low. I look at your sleeping face, looking so much lighter and younger despite the lines that hadn’t been there before my death. I commit every detail to memory, then slip out of bed, careful not to disturb you. I go downstairs, have a piss, then take out my phone._

_“Buenas tardes, Sr. Álvarez. Creo que necesitaremos algunas cosas…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “When you were called, did you answer or did you not? Perhaps softly and in a whisper?”  
> ― Søren Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling 
> 
> Fear and trembling are come upon me, and horror hath overwhelmed me.  
> Psalm 55:5
> 
> So then, my beloved, even as you have always obeyed, not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.  
> Philippians 2:12  
> 


	7. Thank Christ for Tequila and Bad Fucking Judgement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we were talking about a tequila-sodden midnight orgy on the beach, because of course that's what Jim Moriarty and Sebastian Moran do when in Mexico.  
> It is lost in the sands of time which one of us came up with the brilliant idea to write said tequila-sodden midnight orgy whilst being drunk ourselves, but both writers agreed it was a great thought, and Jim and Seb were only too happy to go along.  
> The downside was that after one evening/night (writers live on different continents) of drunken writing, the boys had only had one shot and a bit, and were only about an hour into the orgy.  
> So as we didn't feel like letting the side down, we decided to do it again the next night. And the next. And the next.  
> The below is the result of those four nights; lots of beer, margaritas, and rum; and the two best characters writers could ask for.
> 
> Ernest Hemingway is reported to have said 'Write drunk, edit sober'. Apparently he never said this, and we didn't - except for a few continuity errors we fixed so as not to jar you, our dear reader, below is the text as she was writ in those long sloshed summer nights.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it - we four certainly did.
> 
> The translation of the Baudelaire poem Jim recites can be found here:  
> https://theampersandblog.wordpress.com/2012/03/29/poetry-enivrez-vous-baudelaire-original-with-translation/

_"Had a nice nap Tiger? Come out onto the beach, darling. I have a surprise."_

_You walk out, and I smile when your eyes widen. Two lounge chairs are set out under the stars, with a table in between. Colourful lanterns are strung between the palm trees, candles flicker in painted glass holders on the table and spread over the beach. A mosquito-repellent incense wafts its spicy smell. A fully-stocked bar has been set up in the sand; several bottles of the excellent tequila hand-made by Mr Álvarez' cousin's wife's girlfriend's aunt's son-in-law or something are placed on the sand. A mirror and razor blades are laid out on the table with a promising packet of white powder next to it. I grin as I see you take in the view._

I stop walking, and take in the scene. "Wow… this is - amazing." A smile breaks out across my face. "Tequila?" I look over to the table. "Oh my god... Seriously?? Nice touch, Jim..." I start to laugh...

 

 

_"I thought we deserved a good wedding party. And because both you and I hate people, I figured we'd get all the ingredients for a good party, except for the guests. Welcome to Mexico's specialties - Mr Álvarez guarantees me it's the best, and he seems to have a clue. He suggested some female company, and then some male company, but I assured him we are perfectly capable of having an orgy all by ourselves."_

_I reach under the table and press 'play' on the music system, and Misirlou drifts over the beach. I dance up to you, wrap my arms around you, and grind against you suggestively as I pull you into a kiss._

 

 

I laugh with delight as you start dancing, and then the kiss and the grinding starts and I'm far too busy with your lips, your hips, your semi-hard cock pressing against mine... my breath catches in my throat, and I grind against you, too. This celebration isn't going to last long, I fear... so I pull back a little, clasp your hand in mine, wrap my arm around your waist, and dance you around the patio, grinning wildly.

 

 

_Yes... this is what I hoped to see. That massive grin, with an impossible number of teeth, that grin that I love so much, that grin that says you're perfectly happy right now, in this moment, doing what you're doing. It's been a hard couple of days for us, and I know how much you hate and fear the talking that's to come, and I wanted you to just have a perfect party. We dance, you twirling me around, me showing off my moves, ending up leaning in your arms as the song ends, both of us grinning like loons._

 

 

"Thanks for the dance, babe - and _everything_. This is amazing..." I throw back my head, and grin at the night sky. "Hey. Full moon..." I laugh. "Uh oh..."

 

 

_"It's when the lunatics come out to play," I laugh. "Come on, lunatic." I open a bottle of tequila and pour us both a shot. Salt and lime at the ready, we clink our glasses - "To us!" - lick the salt, and knock them back._

I push a slice of lime into your mouth. ("Suck, baby," I laugh) and then one into mine. I throw the rind of the lime across the patio, and then pull you into a kiss.

 

 

_Mmm, tequila, lime, and Tiger. Perfect combination. "We can do shots all night if you like, but we've also got the ingredients for cocktails in the bar - stop looking at me like that, you know I like my drinks like I like my kitties - sweet."_

 

 

I grin at you. "Perfect. We don't want to be falling down drunk... then we'll be too fucked up to do what I want to do to you..." I kiss you again, and run my tongue over your lips. "mmmm.... very tasty. Can I have endless shots of you, ad infinitum?"

 

 

_"That's what the white stuff is for - should keep you up and running despite the tequila, bitters, rum, kahlua, mescal... Oh don't look like that, we don't have to drink it all tonight," I grin. "So, Tiger, why don't you tell me what you'd like to do to me?"_

 

 

" _Oh_ … where to begin..." I grab you and start dancing you around the patio again. The music is distinctly not Mexican, but neither of us care.

"We could start with... railing some of that coke, which I'm quite sure is the very best, if you purchased it. Then maybe... skinny dipping? And coming back to the beach, and... I could kneel at your feet and blow you, to start... worship that gorgeous cock of yours, you fucking god among men... does that work for you, baby?" I dip you, and stare at you intently.

_I arch my head back, breathing in. "Fuck, you know how to sweet-talk a boy. Why don't we do that, my Yours."_

_We dance to the table, and I line us both up two decent lines of coke. Not too much, this stuff is good. I roll up a shiny new banknote - hate the smell of old money - and take a sniff in each nostril._ _Fuck_ _, that is good stuff. I grin, hand the banknote to you._

 

 

I smirk at you - "Why, thank you!"- and line up the banknote with my designated lines. I snort them, throw my face up to the sky, and howl at the moon. I look at you, and your glittering eyes, and I want to worship at your feet. "You're so fucking beautiful.... come here..." I reach out my hand, and stare at you in a daze.

 

 

_You're perfectly outlined in the blinding moonlight, I see your eyes shine, staring at me in admiration, and I stare back - I can see every cell of your face clearly, the cones and rods of your eyes, every eyelash, and each and every one of these combine to make the most beautiful visage in the history of mankind. I gasp - I knew you were beautiful, but I'd never seen you with all the clarity that good cocaine brings. I'm almost afraid to move, to blink, for fear of losing this vision of perfection._

 

 

We're both staring at each other, transfixed - there's only one thing for it. I start unbuttoning my shirt. "I think it's time for a swim under the full moon, baby..." I grin, and unzip my trousers. Then I smile seductively while I pull them down, and kick them off.

 

****

_Oh my god. The only thing better than seeing your face is seeing your entire body. Fuck I want to jump you right now, but yes, you're right, let's prolong the joyful moment, let's do that swim - but not before I have licked that delicious neck, which tastes of salt and smoke and you, and ok, given it a little bite..._

 

 

I push my neck against your teeth. Fuuuuck… it's already so good, and I know we're both trying hard to hold off the inevitable. My hands reach for the hem of your shirt, and I pull it slowly over your head. My fingers curl over your waistband, and I fix my eyes to yours. Slowly I pull your trousers over your hips... and breathe in sharply as I see your beautiful cock...

 

 

_No, Tiger, you said swim first, I recognize that look in your eyes, and fuck, it's so hot how you are always hungry for my cock, like it's the holy grail or something, but no, the water looks delicious, with the full moon reflected on it._

_I pull you by the hand to the waterline, and we walk in, giggling, splashing water at each other, and I could fucking *_ _cry*_ _, seeing you so happy and carefree; it makes my heart swell._

 

We walk in deep enough for the water to rise above our shoulders, submerging us almost completely. I pull you to me, and we kiss. I feel your legs slide around my hips. I groan as your pelvis bumps against my cock.

"Mmmm... you feel good, baby..." I grin at you, and seek out your lips again. Your arms circle my neck, and I sigh dreamily. "Babe... you've made me happier than I've _ever_ been..." I kiss your lips again and again...

 

 

_Oh god. Your arms around me. Your cock touching mine in the water. Your lips on mine. Under the stars, under the full moon - I could almost forget everything, just be normal, be happy..._

_And then you say I've made you happier than you've ever been before, and I_ _am_ _happy, not normal, never normal, there will always be the burden, but here, in the sea, buoyed up by the water, by you, it's not so heavy, and I can forget it, I can let myself melt into your kisses, let myself dissolve into your arms. "I love you, Sebastian... so much... I've never... been happy. But you manage to make me happy. Thank you. Thank you, my love... "_

 

 

I turn you around in the water, revelling in the feeling of the water against my skin, your skin sliding against mine... I'm becoming more intoxicated by the moment....

"I will spend the rest of my life making sure you know what it's like to be happy.... I _know_ , Jim... I know it's hard for men like us. I _know_ it is... but I think we have moments of happiness that surpass the average idiot's... so what if they feel 'pretty OK' all the time.... I would take torment and euphoria any day of the week over 'pretty ok' … _fuck_ them and their houses and cars and kids and 9-5 existence... I choose _this_ and _you_ , any day of the week, and for always..."

 

 

_Fuck, Tiger, I love you. I can't recall the time when I didn't realize - I must have always known, even when I wasn't admitting it. You're... just perfect, in every way._

_Everyone I've ever met has been *_ _boring*_ _, kind of with the exception of Holmes, but you - you're something else. You're like a drug, getting under my skin, lifting my entire existence up._

_I grab you close with my arms and my legs, press myself as closely against you as I can. "Always," I confirm, "You and me against the world, Tiger. And the world better watch out, because we're fucking *_ _invincible*_ _."_ _I laugh, and launch myself from your arms backwards, swimming through the marvellous smooth water, surfacing again to see the moon reflect on the water and your head swimming towards me._

 

_Of course_ I follow you... I would follow you to the ends of the earth. I'm with you, Jim.... I throw my head back and laugh under the moonlight, and then continue to swim after you. "Babe-" I call out. "Wherever you go, I'm going to catch you..." and then I swim towards you until you're in my arms again. "Do you want to head back to the beach?" I ask breathlessly. "I want to show you something..."

 

 

_"Wherever you go, Tiger..." I laugh, and start swimming towards the beach with you right by my side. I stop for a moment only, to admire the way you slide through the water, the supple movements of your strong arms propelling you forward; then follow you, finally getting to the beach, taking the towel from the chair, towelling myself off._

 

 

I watch you as I dry myself off with the towel... So hot... you're so hot... I stalk towards you, and fall to my knees in the sand before you.

"Oh, right... I don't have anything to show you... I just needed to do this." I grab your arse, and pull you towards me. I slide your beautiful cock into my mouth, and groan with the pleasure of it. I move my head back and forth, and you get hard, so fast. Oh god... I could do this for the rest of my life, and it would be as hot as the first time... I hear you moan, and I smile around your cock. _yes, Jim... let me pleasure you, baby..._

 

 

_Whoa - I was genuinely waiting for what you wanted to show me, and fuuuuckkkk - this is all the better for being anticipated yet unexpected. Your mouth, always so eager, so devoted, your mouth oh god your mouth... The one part of you that would always get you into trouble, snarky bastard that you are, but which is also your undisputed best feature. Fuck, you know how to use that mouth, and you are really throwing yourself into it, and I can't... god... I reach out, find support from the table, helping me to not buckle as my knees go weak under your ministrations. "Fuck, Seb, you're... amazing..." I gasp._

 

 

I suck you hard, enraptured by your cock, and the sounds you're making... oh god, Jim... my hands squeeze your arse, and I groan as I feel your cock thrust into my mouth. To think I used to not like when you fucked my mouth... now I'm feeling you moving back and forth, and revelling in the sensation... the knowledge that your pleasure is coming from me... that your gasps, your moans are coming from me...

 

 

 _Damn, Sebastian, you seem determined, but I don't want to, not yet, I want you to enjoy yourself too, but you seem to enjoy yourself immensely, and I'm torn between just wanting to let you carry on with it, because you are fucking *_ _brilliant*_ _and I don't *_ _ever*_ _want this to stop, and... what was the other option again? I don't want to know if it involved removing my cock from your mouth because this is just... fuckkk... in a bout of hedonism I grab the bottle of tequila from the table, take a swig, move it down, pour it carefully over the top of my cock, allowing you to gulp it in._

 

 

I lap the tequila up from your cock, and continue to suck hard. I look up at your face, and it's like staring into everything I've ever wanted - your eyes closed, mouth open, panting hard... I want to make you come so hard, baby - but I'm not ready for this night to be over... I stop blowing you, and lean my head against your abdomen. "Oh, baby - you feel so good...." I pant. "But I really wanna _fuck_... Do you want to?" I look up at you, eyes pleading.

 

 

_You stop sucking, which is probably illegal, or it should be, but then you suggest fucking and fuck yes, what a great idea._

_Damn the perpetual conundrum of the homosexual couple though - who fucks whom? Well, I think that's probably quite clear - you don't give James fucking Moriarty cocaine and expect him to not be ready to fuck the world and his brother. But we're running a democracy now, so I have to at least make an effort - I look down at you and am faced with the most exquisite sight in the world - Sebastian Moran on his knees, his beautiful eyes shining silver in the light of the full moon, looking up at me pleadingly. "Want me to fuck you baby? Fuck you hard?" I ask._

 

 

I groan... " _Fuck_ , yes... you know what I want. I love to fuck you, and I want to, every single day of our honeymoon... but right now... I just need your cock in me... fuck me, baby.... fuck me so hard...."

 

 

_Just say the word, baby... I lick my finger, reach down to the coke on the table, get some on my finger and rub it on my gums, then consider doing the same for you, but think of something better. I bend you over my lounge chair, grab the conveniently located tube of lube, and rub around your arse, stick my finger in, rubbing the lube inside as best I can. Then I lick the finger of my other hand, stick it in the coke again, and carefully put that finger up your arse._

 

 

I'm looking back to see what you're doing... and oh, you're not... ohhhhh, you are... I close my eyes as your finger pushes inside me. I breathe in sharply, and wait for it... not quite sure what's going to happen, and ohhhh, you clever fucker, ohhhh god, so good. A second finger joins the first, and I throw my head back, panting. Your hand closes around my throat possessively, and I moan loudly. "Fuck- do it, Jim… _fuck me_ … _please_ …"

 

 

 _Your moaning, begging for me to fuck you, is fucking *_ _glorious*_ _, and my cock jumps at the sound, only too eager to comply. I rub more lube on it, and position myself against you. I'll need to be a bit more careful than before, it's been a long time and only two days since then, unbelievable, but I'm pushing in slowly, little bit by little bit, and you *_ _moan*_ _so beautifully, so eagerly, and oh fuck, I can't - I push harder, I need to, I need to be inside you, as far as I can, god I want to fuck you, Sebastian, my Sebastian..._

 

Your cock is pushing into me, you're holding my hip and my throat so hard, it's going to leave bruises, and _fuck_ , I want your marks fucking all over me. Show the world I’m yours... Sir... I groan... that's what it all comes down to , doesn't it... that one seemingly little word, that honorific... Sir…fuck... your cock is surging into me, and I cry out. I hear the fucking echo on the water, the villas along the beach are going to wonder what the fuck is happening... I'm keening... I'm moaning for you... your cock pulls out, and then shoves back into me - fuuuuuck…. "harder...." I pant. " _Harder_..."

 

 

_When you cry out I'm momentarily afraid I've gone too fast, that I'm hurting you, but then you're keening, and moaning, and I recognize those sounds, you want to feel me, and *_ _god*_ _, I want to make you feel me. You pant 'harder' and that's all I need, I'm unleashed, fuck, Sebastian, I hope you know what you're doing, because there's no going back now... I push into you hard, pushing my hand on your throat, you moan so exquisitely, making me harder, making me forget everything in the world except for the sensation in my cock and the sounds you make, and I move faster, driving my fingers into your neck - that's going to leave bruises, but who cares, you're mine, Sebastian, forever, completely, utterly, always, mine..._

 

 

You're pounding into me, now... _yes_. And then I remember... "You said... the first night I was going to bleed." I pant. "Don't go back on your word... you promised... Sir..."

 

 

_Ooooh god yes you're right, I did promise that, and god, you are going to bleed, but not now, not here, I can't stop, and I can't make you bleed, I mean, I could, I could scratch your back or something, but I want it to be special, and I will make it special for you, my Sebastian..._

_“I never go back on my word, Sebastian..." I pant, "You are going to bleed... but I also said you got to choose how. Tell me, Sebastian... Tell me how you want me to make you bleed. And I'll reward you by coming inside you. And then when I've caught my breath... you are going to bleed for me..."_

 

 

"I want..." I pause, feeling your cock thrust into me. I don't know... I'm not used to having a choice! "I want you to..." fuck, your cock is magnificence... I squeeze around you, longing to feel your orgasm, for you to come inside me...

 

_"I'm not going to come until you've told me... " I boast - easy for me to say, but my poor cock protests that it is having a *_ _really*_ _good time inside you and is getting *_ _really*_ _close to shooting its load inside you - but I have never not been master of my body, so I am sure I can suppress my natural urges, but it would be really good if you could make your choice pretty soon..._

 

"Fuck, I don't know," I moan... "I want you to decide..."

 

 

 _"I have decided," I purr. "I have decided that you have to choose. I know it's easier on you when I say what happens and you just have to follow... but you're capable of making decisions, you're not just a pretty face. And I know that you desire nothing more than to make me happy, and that's fucking great," I can't help but squirm a little bit at that because you're so fucking *_ _hot*_ _and *_ _tight*_ _, but I'm keeping myself in check, I *_ _am*_ _, "but there must be some thing that you have dreamed about, some thing that you longed to experience again, or maybe even experience for the first time... tell me Sebastian... tell me how I'm going to make you bleed..."_

 

 

Oh god... the sound of your voice being firm, seductive, dominant, and just this side of an orgasm... I hear myself speak, panting. "The M... I want you to... do it again. But this time... I want to feel you carve it, knowing you love me, knowing you want me always... I need to _feel it_ under my skin. Make it new, and make me yours for always..."

 

_*Fuck*_ _, I hadn't expected that, and *_ _fuck*_ _, it's the perfect answer; I see the M on your back, carved five years ago, a beautiful scar, and you want me to carve it *_ _again*_ _, your biggest scar, you want to *_ _feel*_ _it, you want to suffer, knowing it's done with love as well as possession, fuck, Sebastian, you are incredible..._

_"I will..." I gasp, "I will, you're mine, Sebastian, and I will show it to the world, and I love you, fuck I love you, I love you so *_ _fucking much*_ _... " I can let myself go now; I am, I am slamming into you, your beautiful body, mine, mine, always mine... I howl my ecstasy out onto the stars, grasping your sides hard, feeling myself pour into you, into you, Sebastian, my love, my Yours, my whatever, my everything, Seb, Seb, Seb...._

 

 

I'm moaning as I hear your answer, how fucking moved you are, as you let go into me, howling, crying out at the night sky, and I feel your orgasm pour into me, as you keep moaning my fucking name... fuck, I'm so close... but I have to hold on, hold on Seb, hold on... I've been waiting for this five years, I had no idea what would happen five years later... but I've been ready and waiting for you, Jim… my Mine, my love, make me Yours always...

 

 

 _My orgasm seems to last for minutes, it probably doesn't, because it's probably biologically impossible, but I feel like I'm being squeezed dry of every grain of ecstasy I have inside me. I'm shivering, this is so amazing, I'm grasping your hips, this_ _has_ _to be leaving bruises, but your face just looks enraptured, and for a moment I wonder if you are coming, coming from me fucking you, but no, you're saving yourself..._

_I fall over your back, leaning on your shoulders, panting, heart racing, gasping for air. "Fuck, Sebastian..."_

 

 

"Fuck I love you..." I pant. "I fucking love you... I want this... I want it. Please…"

 

 

_My head is reeling, I need a moment to catch my breath, I want to do this properly. I keep lying on your back, stroke your shoulder, "I will, I will my love, I love you so much, just... give me a second to catch my breath... that was amazing... you are amazing... Fuck, Seb, you are so fucking sensational..." Slowly my breathing seems to get to more manageable levels._

 

 

I want to scream, I want to cry, I want to howl under the moon... my cock is hard, and I need to come... but first I need you to carve your mark again... I need the sharp pain that only you can give me... anyone else would be dead for even trying... No one can even touch us... we're gods among men. Shit... that's reeeealllly good coke, Jim... I laugh as you lie collapsed against me.

 

 

_I feel you quivering with need, and I get myself under control, get my breathing to a normal rhythm, push myself up off your back, see you stretched out before me, and despite just having come, my cock twitches again at the sight, helpless against this vision of you leaning over the sun lounger, offering yourself up to me, begging me to redo the action with which I claimed ownership of you five years ago, to reclaim you; you want to feel it again, the agony of being taken possession of._

_I move out of you carefully, and lean to the bag under the table - there's a knife in there, among other things, and call me an old romantic, but it's the same knife that carved you originally. I have cherished it. It's clean and sharp. I put it at your left shoulder blade - "Ready, babe?"_

 

My eyes literally flutter shut, I'm like a smitten teenager all over again. "Yes... ready..." I breathe... "I'm ready for you," I whisper.

 

 

_I am taken back to that night, five years ago, that crazy amazing night when you became mine. This is of similar significance - I am once again making you mine, but in a more profound manner. Also, very significantly, you are not chained to anything - you are asking for this, and lying down in anticipation, without any coercion from my side. I push the blade and pull it down, watching you closely._

 

 

The blade feels like you - sleek, sharp, under my skin... my mouth opens, and I breathe out shakily... of course I'm remembering that night. It was all hunger and need and want, all pointed at you, all surrendering to you.

This time, I've already surrendered to you more times than I can count... and now I've surrendered to love, I've surrendered to destiny... Pain is making me clear, sharp... I see everything now with startling clarity.

What I experienced then was passion, intensity, madness... and now... now... I feel like I've stepped outside of my body and I'm looking down at the scene - as I'm laughing under the stars, and your knife shines in the moonlight, and you watch me carefully, working with precision, and your eyes gleam as you see blood roll down my back... and I return to my body, laughing shakily, my muscles trembling with excitement, in the most intoxicating blend of pleasure and pain... yes, Jim... _yes_ … make me bleed, baby...

 

_You're shivering slightly, and then you're *_ _laughing*_ _holding still so beautifully as I carve your skin, make a perfect line of blood down your back, reaffirming the bond we formed five years ago, but so much more profound now, making you mine again, but fully this time, not just claiming your body and your time, but claiming your entire being._

_"You are mine, Sebastian... We are bound by love, destiny, and vows. I own your body, your heart, your mind, and your soul. All this symbolized by my initial carved into your back... Ownership given freely, received in love."_

_I finish the final line, bend down to lick it, relishing the taste of your blood, so sweet... and my hand moves to your cock, still rock hard, and I start moving it as I continue kissing your fresh wounds._

 

 

You finish - your words are flowing over my bleeding flesh, and tears are leaking from my eyes ... and then it's your tongue and your lips moving over my wound, and I'm quivering against your touch... and then it's your hand closing over my cock, and oh... _oh_. Back then, you made me weep with longing as I surrendered to you... this time, I'm weeping from the pleasure of it all - your lips against my back, the stars shining in the velvet black sky, the luminous ocean under the white moon... and you, Jim. Your name is pouring from my lips as you stroke me - faster and harder.

 

 

 _You're perfect in every way. You really are. I can't believe, I will never be able to express, if I could you would never believe, but you are the essence of perfection. *How*_ _could *_ _anyone*_ _lie there, marked, his blood trickling down his back, whispering my name over and over again in raptured bliss, elated by my mark of ownership, in complete ecstasy because I once again made him *_ _mine*_ _\- and with a shock I realize that this is what you've been waiting for, I broke our previous bond by disappearing; it was gone, and you needed to have it reinstated in the same way as we did that first time - of course - oh, Sebastian, I can be so thick sometimes. I'm so glad you managed to confess your need._

_I stroke you harder, faster, lying on your back, whispering sweet nothings like 'You're mine, Sebastian, for ever, I will never, ever leave you again, you're amazing, you're perfect, I love you so much...'_

It doesn't take long... this close as I am to rapture... to ecstasy... your hand is sliding up and down my cock, squeezing, pulling up, making me groan so gutturally, making me moan loudly, making me whimper as your hand moves faster and faster... my cock hasn't felt so intensely pleasured since I was a horny teenager, and I come hard and violently like one - shuddering, shaking against one hand on my cock, and one on my back... I hear my keening cry fill the night sky, flung out against the stars and the sea... it feels like we're somehow witnessed by their vastness... winked at by the shimmering stars. I collapse, feeling you against my back, sliding your arms around me. I pant as I lie under you, under the fullness of the moon.

_Your orgasm feels magnificent, significant, like you're pouring out a lot of the old hurt into the sand of the beach, crying it out to the night sky. You lie panting underneath me and I hold myself up on my elbows so I'm not too heavy, but I do maintain as much contact as possible, feeling your back, sticky with blood, sticking to my chest, feeling your arms over mine, your legs against mine. I kiss your neck, moist with sweat, kiss your hair. "I love you Sebastian... I love you..."_

 

 

I lay my cheek against the lounge chair, panting. "Fuck- that was..." I heave a sigh. "Fuck. Amazing... I love you too - Jim. There aren't big enough words for how much..." I nudge you with my back so you slide off me, and then I twist around. I spread out on the chair, panting - smiling, I reach out my hand to you so you'll join me.

_"Don't lie on the chair like that," I say. "I should clean that wound - I cut quite deep, and I don't want you to catch some exotic disease. I... did bring wound cleaning gear," I blush - why do I blush? It's not like it would be unexpected for you; hell, you *_ _asked*_ _for this. Stop blushing Moriarty._

_I take the kit from the bag, pull you upright. I clean the wound by sucking every bit of it - yeah, I love the taste of your blood, but it's an effective way of ensuring the wound is clean too - then put disinfectant on it, making you gasp a little. Then I put special waterproof plasters on - you may want another swim later._

 

 

I take your chiding in good spirits - especially when you seem a bit awkward and.. bashful? It's too dark to tell if you're flushed, but - huh. That's new. I try not to grin at you, and turn as instructed. Then you're taking excellent care of my wound as you always have. I sigh, happily. When you're done, I lie on my side - I wink and gesture to the spot in front of me.

 

 

_I lie down next to you, seeing the expression on your face - peaceful is the only way to describe it. I've given you something you needed. I smile at you, stroke your hair, your cheek. "Welcome back home, Sebastian."_

 

 

I smile at you lazily. "Well, home is you - like you keep telling me. And I'm feeling very welcome..." I lean forward and kiss your lips, then look into your eyes. "And - that goes for you too, Jim. Welcome home."

Now I'm the one who's blushing... hopefully it's too dark for you to tell...

 

 

_I - oh yes, of course. I was so caught up in wanting to take care of you, that I forgot myself for a second. Very unlike me. I can't help but grin at that. And then I cuddle up closer to you, careful not to grab your back, and relish just lying with your arms around me._

_"This is home," I whisper. "Home is two impossibly blue eyes looking at me, two impossibly strong arms around me, one impossibly strong and tender heart beating against mine."_

_Fuck me, when did I become a mediocre Romantic poet? Well never mind - I'll spout mediocre poetry all night if it makes you smile like that._

 

 

I beam at you. "GOD... to think it was just an off-handed suggestion that we go away. For a weekend, no less... and I didn't even think you'd go for it. Everything feels different, doesn't it?" I look out at the sea. "Do you realize we've only had one drink? Not counting the one off your cock," I laugh. "Which was the very best one..."

 

 

_"Well we only get married once - we deserve a proper honeymoon," I say lazily, stroking you. "You're right. We're rubbish at orgies. Mr Álvarez will be so disappointed if he sees only half a bottle of tequila gone tomorrow. Can you make me a margarita?"_

 

 

"Coming right up, Boss." I wink at you, and get up. As I walk towards the bar, I realize I have never felt so at ease with you. I glance back at you, and you're watching me. I wave and begin to prepare a pitcher, then pour it into two glasses with salted rims. I carry them over, and hand you yours.

"Cheers, babe-" we clink glasses and drink deep.

 

 

_Ah... I love margaritas. I also love the way you move when walking to the bar and back, and the look on your face. It's changed - it's been changing for the past two days, but most significantly after our afternoon on the beach earlier today, and now I've recarved the M. You're - moving with an ease I haven't seen before - ever. I mean - you always move with the grace of your big cat namesake, but there's always caution in your steps, in your gestures. And now you just seem more relaxed than I've ever seen you. Like you are finally comfortable being yourself in my presence._

_A stab of guilt pierces me, but I tell it to *_ _fuck off*_ _because now is not the time for guilt, now is the time for relaxation and enjoyment. I knock back my margarita - you raise your eyebrows and do the same. And I get up and walk to the bar to refill them._

 

 

This time it's me watching you - pouring drinks naked at the bar. Jesus, I could get used to this. Maybe we should move to Mexico, live off your (our) fortune, and never think about anything serious again... but maybe that's the margarita talking... I could definitely use more of those. A glass appears before me like magic, and I take it. " _Thank_ you, Kitten..." I take a good long drink. "Oh, don't give me that look. I've been hearing Tiger for how many years?"

 

 

 _"You're seriously comparing *_ _Kitten*_ _to *_ _Tiger*_ _?!" I laugh. "I give you a nickname based on a ferocious gracious silent killer, and you refer to me as something that makes most people squee in delight at the cuteness. I mean, I'll grant you I'm *_ _cute*_ _", I grin, as I throw myself back onto the lounger, "but I do feel that 'kitten' doesn't quite reflect the lethality and scariness included in the cute package."_

 

 

"OK, OK..." I hold up my hands in mock defeat. "But to be fair, it was a bit patronizing at the time... I had to throw something back at you, Kitten. Sorry." Slyly I tip my glass to my lips. "Not sorry," I say out the side of my mouth, and drain my glass. "But I won't call you Kitten again... for the rest of the night." I slide my arm around your waist, and dreamily I press my lips to yours.

 

 

_Well, that's me shut up. I think of several retorts, but none of them is worth breaking the kiss for. There's some salt in the corner of your mouth and I lick it off. You look so sweet and contented - you look younger than I've ever seen you, younger than when I met you, when your face was lined by your recent tour of duty, and after that tense with the need to prove yourself to me, and after that just always slightly on edge in my presence; until I disappeared and came back - and that's when you looked worst of all._

_I shudder when I remember the emptiness of the eyes that glared at me from the shower. And I can't help it - tears fall down my face, and I cling to you, hoping you won't see, damn it, I wanted this to be a happy night, fuck's sake Jim, you can't handle your drink..._

 

 

A change comes over you - I sense it immediately. I knew I shouldn't have said anything, the instant I found myself referring to the past. Shit.

You're staring off, and then pressing against me - your face not touching me. Hiding tears, Jim? I'm afraid to look, but I tip back your chin gently. My shoulders slump. "Awww, no- no, baby. I didn't mean anything by it. I'm sorry- I shouldn't have said anything." I hold your face in my hand. "The past is done. I only care about now, and our future. Please don't be sad..." I realize tears are spilling down my cheeks, too. "Shit. We're awfully weepy for bad-ass criminal types..." I say wryly, and wipe my eyes.

 

_"I'm sorry Seb, I'm so sorry, I wanted this to be a happy night, I can't handle my drink, fuck it..." I kiss you. “I wasn't crying about the Kitten stuff, I was just - I realized how horrible you looked when I came back, that empty look in your eyes, and you look so much better now, so much better than ever before, because I always kept you on edge, and I'm really grateful, but I'm also really sorry... Fuck... You're right - can you imagine us being at some party thrown by cartel leaders and getting all weepy after three drinks?" I laugh. Kiss your tears. "Why are you crying?"_

 

 

"Why? Because _you're_ crying," I sniffle. "I don't like to see you sad..." I lean in and lick your tears, taste the salt. "There. All gone. Neither of us need to be sad." I gather you in my arms. "I've never been happy before now, at least not since I was a kid. That's gotta count for something. You did that." I rest my head against your shoulder, listen to you breathe.

 

 

_"You silly Tigger," I grin, kissing your tears away. We're not getting into the reasons for the unhappiness. Not now. I want to know, but - tomorrow. Or the day after. We have plenty of time - I told Mr Álvarez I'd let him know when we wanted to check out and he wisely approved._

_"I need some more coke. That should sort this out." I sit up, pull the mirror and the gear from the table you moved when you pulled our chairs together, make two small lines, snort them. I immediately feel a *_ _lot*_ _better. I hand them to you._

 

 

"Oh, it's _this_ kind of party..." I grin, and take the mirror and bankroll from you. I lean down and snort my lines. Euphoria fills me, and I grin at you. "Good idea, baby," I whisper. "You have the very best ideas....my clever little fucker..." I start to laugh. "I think I'm feeling something..."

 

 

 _"Hmmm? *_ _Feeling*_ _something? Yes, that's your department. I'm a big bad psychopath, I don't feel things," I grin. "What are you *_ _feeling*_ _, my beautiful husband?"_

 

 

"I'm feeling... giddy from margaritas and coke..." I say, with what I imagine is a stupid grin on my face. "I'm feeling like you're a big liar, and you _do so_ feel things... careful or you'll have your Beware the Psychopath button officially revoked." I pretend to yank something off your chest, looking indignant, and then mime throwing it into the sea angrily. "And I'm feeling blissed out by all the things you say to me... like I could hear _that_ about a billion more times and never hear it enough... _husband_ ," I whisper into your ear, breathily.

 

 

 _"OK, OK," I give in, semi-reluctantly, "I *_ _do*_ _feel things. I didn't *_ _use*_ _to, but then a big bad Tiger came my way and tore open my chest and ran off with my heart. But I managed to catch him - ensnare him in my web. He kept my heart, but gave me his in return, and I like his better, to be honest; it's damaged, but bigger. And now we're together, the Spider and his Tiger - *_ _married*_ _. And running the fucking world." I swipe my hand across the expanse of sea, which presumably has the world behind it, but it's not visible, it's just you and me, and that is just fine. I will deal with the world when we get back._

 

 

"And currently on a break from running the world, right? Day 1 of our honeymoon was fucking spectacular... I won't be ready to go back anytime soon. I need a lot more of _this_ ," I slide my arm around you and squeeze. "And, god, this ocean... I feel like I could just sit here for a century." I sigh, and rest my head against your shoulder.

 

 

 _"It's a sea, actually," Mr Know-it-all pipes up. "The Caribbean Sea. The Atlantic Ocean is behind it. But I'm not sure if the water knows. Or what the difference is, really. It's like the difference between cults and religions - it's all about size." No idea where *_ _that*_ _came from either._

_"Another margarita? Or something else?" I kiss your lips and get up._

 

"My clever fucker," I grin. "I did know that... I just didn't care enough to differentiate. But I do love how precise you are, my Mine..." I put my hands behind my head, and lean back. "I'll have something - whatever you're having. I'm easy." I wink.

 

 

 _"Aw don't tell me that," I pout. "Here I thought I had been so fortunate, managing to ensnare you." God, you look delectable, lying back like that, showing off your perfect physique, muscular, sculpted, with those *_ _arms*_ _folded back... the coke is having its effect on my libido, I feel just about ready for round two. Calm down, I tell myself - it's usually not a great idea to start shagging straight after a line. Also - the night is young and so are we._

_I go to the bar, have a rummage around, and make two mezcalitas - Mr Álvarez has left us a book with cocktail recipes as well as all the ingredients for making them. I doubt we'll get to the end of this bar before our livers give out, but this looks tasty - and proves to be tasty. I carry them over to you._

 

I accept the drink you've made, and wait for us to clink glasses before I sip it. "Mmmm... nice mixing, babe," I say with appreciation. "If we decide to give up a life of running the world and stay here, you can be a bartender, and I'll be- a bouncer. And anyone who comes onto you will be bounced right out of the club and into the Caribbean fucking Sea.,," I raise my glass, smile wickedly, and throw back the mezcalita.

 

 

_I sip mine - my tolerance for alcohol is less than yours and there's no way I could match you drink for drink and remain standing, coke or no coke. "Yes... we could take turns choosing the music, and wear ear plugs when the other person has picked," I grin. Your taste in music is appalling, and I know you think the same about mine, but we did manage to find some compromises on the music player – anything is better than Mr Álvarez’ ‘Genuine Mexican Play List’._

 

 

"So what do you have in mind for tonight, baby? More chilling out on the beach, and see what we get up to as the night rolls on? I can think of something that may come up if I do any more blow..." I gesture with my head towards my pelvis, then lean back against the chair, smiling cheerfully.

 

 

_"Mmm - I would be surprised if Little Seb didn't rear his head again soon. He's quite reliable, blow or no blow." I lean back, look at the stars, the palm fronds moving against them._

_"Anything you like Tiger - I'm just - I haven't been so relaxed in - ever, I think. I'm enjoying *_ _not*_ _having to think of anything, so I'm not planning anything either. Anything that will happen tonight will be because the mood strikes me. But if you feel the urge to plan, please feel free - I'm keen to hear what you come up with."_

 

 

"Absolutely nothing..." I sigh, "...for the first time in forever. And if I try to think of something, I imagine heading to a local cantina to start a full-out brawl... or to kick the shit out of any man who so much as looks at either of us - whether it's about sex or holding us up - or just flat-out taking over a cartel, just for the challenge. But I think that's the coke and my own bad judgement talking..." I think for a moment.

"Yeah. I don't need to do those things. Not tonight, anyway."

 

 

_"I love it when you talk like that," I purr, rolling onto my side to look at you. "I know I'm the psychopath, but you're pretty derangedly violent yourself. Don't worry, if the urge gets too much, there are plenty of places around here we can go. But not tonight - if you want to brawl, it will have to be with me, and I'm afraid I'm not in the best shape at the moment - no don't look like that! I meant from the drink. My injuries are fine, I don't even feel them any more - though that might also be the drink. Oh speaking of drink, if you want more, help yourself, but I can't keep up with you, and I'm not going to try. I'm only a little guy..."_

 

 

"Yeah, I don't anticipate our love of crime and violence and destruction will go away anytime soon..." I smile with pleasure.

"Oh, little guy," I scoff. "That's the greatest disguise you have. It's one of my favourite things in life to see someone size you up, think you're an easy mark, and get annihilated." I chuckle. "Remember when that wanker Petrofkski went to sucker punch you in the face, and found himself on the floor being beaten with a bar stool... until somehow he went flying out the window...?" I start to giggle. "And the bar stool followed him down? I was laughing so hard at the expression on his face, that I almost missed seeing you running down the stairs two at a time so you could keep beating his ass on the ground with that goddamn bar stool." I howled with laughter. "You're a scary fucker, babe."

 

 

 _I grin at the memory. I *_ _am*_ _a scary fucker - you found that out yourself the few times we've scrapped. I pull an innocent face - "Me? No, sir, certainly, you don't mean -" I look around in a panic, "I- I don't know what you mean! I haven't done anything! Please - don't hurt me-" my eyes dart around the beach, in search of support or a hiding place. Tears spring into my eyes. "Please- I'm innocent - don't hurt me-" I gasp, looking at you with a terrified face._

I snicker, and play along. I grab you by the throat lightly, push my face towards yours and sneer. "You're going to be sorry you were ever born, arsehole… tell me what you know about Moriarty and his operation. Tell me!" I shout, and turn to hide my face crumpling into silent laughter.

 

 

_"Moriarty- I never heard the name!" I plead, then when you increase the pressure, I cry "Okay! Okay! Please don't hurt me Mr Soldier! Moriarty - he is a bad man! He is fifteen feet tall, and he spews fire! His eyes are laser beams that turn men to stone, and make virgins be... no more virgins! His touch can turn lead into gold, and gold into lead. And his right hand man is even worse! They dine on human flesh every night, and their sofa is upholstered in the skins of their victims... Don't laugh at me, Mr Soldier, I tell you the truth!"_

My shoulders are shaking with laughter, but I manage to squeeze my facial features into outrage. "Stop it with that load of shite... everyone knows Moriarty is only 10 feet tall! But he's a dark occult sorcerer who can curse you dead with a word! What's his Achilles heel, goddammit?" I shake you back and forth lightly, and then shove you back against the chair.

_"Ah, his Achilles heel? Well, I hear it's his right hand man... I hear they are.." I look around to check if we're being overheard, then lean over to you and say in a stage whisper, "*_ _sodomites*!_ _" I pull back and look around quickly again at the audacity of saying the word out loud."_

_And I hear... if you're really brave... but no one ever lived to tell the tale... but if you're absolutely determined to get to him... I hear his right hand man is invulnerable - knives can't harm him, bullets bounce off him... but.. I hear..." I lean in conspiratorially "he's... really ticklish in certain places!" I unleash my fingers to your sides which I know are your weak spot._

 

 

I fall against the chair, holding my arms tightly down over my sides. "No!! Oh, you fucker-" I shout and laugh and pant at the same time. "No! Stop!" I sob-laugh as I roll into a ball, and throw an elbow at your grasping hands.

 

 

_You're stronger than I am, but I'm flexible and fast and I manage to get at your side a few times before you swipe my arms away. I grab at you and we're both rolling in the sand, laughing and gasping. You grab my wrists and pin me down, and I let you, and then you bend down to kiss me, and the world disappears._

 

 

My hands are squeezing your wrists, and my lips are pressed to yours - gently at first and then with more insistence. I break off the kiss, and look down at you, breathing hard.

 

 

_I lie back in the sand, looking at your face, your eyes looking at me with their familiar hunger, and I stare back, licking my lips, not moving._

 

 

I look at your tongue flicking out over your lips, and I slowly lick across your lips, before dipping my tongue into your mouth.

 

 

_I open my mouth to your tongue, moaning slightly - I love feeling your strength. I know I'm the domineering bastard in our relationship, but it's so hot because I know how strong and powerful you really are._

 

 

Your moan sets my head on fire. I kiss you deeply, hungrily. I slide myself over your body to align with you, and press my cock down hard against yours.

 

 

 _... and we're off again. No Mr Álvarez, we *_ _really*_ _don't need others for an orgy, they'd only get in the way. Like I'd *_ _ever*_ _want to look at another man when the perfect specimen is right here on top of me, rubbing his cock against mine, kissing me with such hunger - I moan again, wrap my legs around your hips._

 

 

Oh, _fuck_ … your legs wrapping around me are not making it easy to go slow. But then neither is the blow in my system… I rock against your hips, and it feels like the world tilts on its axis, and everything's on fire, and desire is coursing through me. I rock against you again, feel your cock throbbing against mine, and I groan long and hard. "You – feel – so – _fucking - good_ ," I breathe.

 

 

 _"Oh, I *_ _am*_ _fucking good, babe - haven't you realized that by now?" I ask. "I am the best. And I'm going to make you come - spectacularly. Tell me, Tiger - how would you like to come? With all this to play with," I roll my eyes down and back up, "and no limits - how do you want your next orgasm to be?"_

 

 

"Oh, I want to come hard in that hot little arse of yours... like the _sodomite_ that I am," I grin. "Now the question is... do I want you to ride my cock, or..." I lean down and kiss you hard. "Or do I want to fuck you and stroke your cock and watch you as you come for me? Hmmm…"

 

 

_I groan in anticipation - either sound juuuust fine to me. I just want you to fuck me right here right now - but I'll leave it up to you, I won't be the demanding lover, I won't, honestly... but just fuck me already Sebastian... I move myself against you, eagerly._

 

 

I bite my lip and suck in my breath as I feel you moving against me. "I think I'll take door number 2..." I breathe, and rock against you forcefully. "I want to fuck you, baby. Do you want that?"

 

 

 _"Yes..." I breathe, "yes, Sebastian, I want you to fuck me, right here in the sand, on the line between land and sea, where we renewed who we are this afternoon, fuck me, like you did yesterday on our wedding night... *_ _Fuck*_ _me," I say and I dig my nails into your back, pull you close, clench my legs around you, almost trying to shove myself onto you._

 

 

My mind shuts the fuck down with your response. _Holy shit, Jim_ …. I moan and dive back onto your lips, letting go of your wrists so I can run my hands over your body, every inch of you, your face, your chest, your thighs, your hard cock thrusting against me. "Fuck, baby," I suck in my breath. "I want you so much..." My hand closes around your cock.

 

 

 _"Then take me. I'm yours," I say, and the words sound so natural, though I'm pretty sure I've *_ _never*_ _said that to anyone in my life, but I am - I am yours. Your hand on my cock makes me groan, fuck, have I ever been so horny in my life? Probably, I have to admit. But damn, I want you. "Stop playing around Seb... Fucking fuck me..."_

 

 

"Fuck, yes," I grunt. I look up, and I don't remember where the lube ended up, and it's too fucking far anyway. Practically whimpering at pulling away from you, I lunge over to the lounge chair, grab a cushion, and the discarded bottle of tequila, and crawl back over you. I look down at you, and watch your face as I unscrew the lid of the bottle. I slowly tip the bottle back into my mouth, and then let it spill over my chest and groin. I pour some on my hand, and slide a finger into you.

 

 

_Damn! Well, I said I wanted a tequila orgy. That burns, but the sight of you pouring tequila over yourself makes me gasp with desire, so if you want to fuck me with tequila, go ahead Tiger, just... I moan, reach out to you, pull you towards me._

 

 

"Want some?" I purr, and offer my chest to you, slick with tequila.

 

 

_I lick your chest and grab your cock, pull it towards me. "I want you, Tiger," I manage to express between licks. "Fuck me, just - fuck me."_

 

I position the cushion under your head and back, so you're at an angle. I move my finger back and forth, and then add a second. I stretch you out and feel your muscles throbbing against me. I move my fingers in a circle, and you convulse and moan. I pull my fingers out and replace them with the head of my cock, dripping with tequila. I'll have to be careful - I forgot it would burn, but you don't seem troubled by it. I move my cock into you slowly back and forth, hissing out a long breath. "How - does that - feel, baby?" I pant.

 

 

_"Like Zeus himself entering me," I pant, "Keep going Tiger - I want you, I need you, please, fuck me -" I have no idea where this urge comes from, and it does *_ _burn*_ _, but so does my desire to be filled by you, to feel you inside me. I don't care if it hurts - it doesn't feel like anything is being damaged, and I can live with hurt; and I'm pretty sure I can't live without your cock for much longer._

 

 

"Fuuuuck… are you feeling the burn like I am?" I groan. It's uncomfortable, but strangely it's making things even hotter. "Oh my fucking god..." I moan, as my cock slides into you deeply.

 

 

_"Burn baby burn," I repeat your phrase from yesterday in the plane, and laugh, because it sounds funny for some reason. But then you push in deeper and I feel a wave of ecstasy at being filled by you, immediately followed by a sharp stab of burning pain, but it somehow enhances the feeling rather than detracting from it. "Fffffffuck, Sebastian, fuck... fuck..." Yeah, always the gift of the gab, me..._

 

 

"I may not have thought this through," I moan, as I feel the burn spreading along my cock. "But it feels really....ugnh… good in a fucked up way..." I thrust into you, and groan loudly. "Jesus Fucking Christ..."

 

 

_"At least you managed not to get any sand mixed up..." I grin as I pull you close. "Good in a fucked up way - that's us to a T, baby..."_

 

 

I laugh as I look down at you. "Yes, baby - very us." I kiss you, and feel my cock thrusting into you, your hips rocking against me, your legs spread and pressed up in between us. The rhythm is hard and fast, and that's probably good because the burn is so intense, we're both moaning from it. I reach down to grab your cock, and begin to stroke you.

 

 

_Fuck fuck fuck.... Oh god you're thrusting away inside me and it feels *_ _so fucking good*_ _, and you're grabbing my cock, and I feel like I will explode with sensation, the raw burning in my arse, being filled by you, your exquisite moans, your moving over my cock - this will have to be a fast fuck, I'm beside myself with rapture at the moment, but I don't think I will be able to take much of this, but you seem to feel the same way and are pounding inside me faster and harder, and your face is screwing up in that special look you have, where you look like you are in so much bliss it's physically unbearable._

 

 

"You're so fucking hot... you're so fucking hot..." I'm moaning, then I realize what I'm saying. I catch your eye, and start to laugh. "Yes, literally - I feel like my cock is burning with every stroke," I murmur, looking deeply into your eyes. "But if I'm going to burn alive, there's nowhere else I'd want to be..." I growl, "...than balls-deep in your sweet, tight arse, oh _fuck_ , Jim... _fuck_..." I whimper as the thrusting gets harder and faster and hotter.

 

 

_"You're amazing, Sebastian, you're so fucking incredible..." I gasp. I never enjoyed being fucked, never let anyone if I had a say, but when I got you to do it on a whim, I found it can be the best fucking feeling in the world, but that's because it's *_ _you*_ _, you big fucker, the best fucker, filling me up, stroking my cock... I can feel you're getting close...._

 

 

Oh my god... your face... so turned on... you're groaning, staring at me like you've seen god and are being burned alive, I grab your wrists and shove them down over your head, pin you down, feel like I'm possessing you which is the hottest fucking thing ever, and I keep stroking, stroking, stroking you, pumping into you... "Jim... oh, baby... I'm so close," I moan, staring into your eyes.

 

 

 _You easily grab my wrists in one hand, holding them down and it feels *_ _good*_ _to be taken by you here on the sand, with your eyes, silver in the moonlight, boring into mine, and you say you're close and so am I, ready to explode into flames fuelled by alcohol and sunburn and the sheer heat of our fuck. "Me too Tiger... Come for me, my love, my husband..."_

I thrust into you hard. "Oh, I'm going to come for you..." I thrust again. "Because all you have to do-" _thrust_ "..is tell me to, and I'll do it." I stare into your eyes. "I'll do anything you say. _Anything_." _Thrust_... "But I want you to come with me... Will you come with me, my hot little fucker?”

_"I will if you talk like that..." I mumble. Fuck - do you have any idea how it makes every part of me swell (yes, including that part) to hear you say you'll do *_ _anything I say*? Yeah, yeah, I get off on power, so sue me. Even with you holding my wrists and pounding me into the beach, you're showing me that I have all the power, and it's... so fucking... hot... "Tiger... Sebastian... Fuck... Yes, like that, like that, keep it up keep it up I'm..... fuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkkk.... "_

 

"Come with me," I groan, slamming into you. "Oh, you hot fucker-" I pant. "You fucking - hot- I'm on fucking fire, Jim..." I groan, practically feeling myself engulfed in flames. The friction is unbearable, and painful, and if there's one thing that sends me hurtling into insane pleasure it's _you_ and _pain_. "Oh, it's so _fucking hot_ , oh you bastard, _FUCK_ …" I shout, and my fingers grip your wrists painfully and I pound you hard into the sand.

_You're ramming into me like you're trying to dig me into the sand, and my whole body moves with each thrust, and I release, I surrender, I do what I never do, I completely give up control to another human being, one I *_ _trust*_ _, one I *_ _love*_ _, and my body is going *_ _finally!*_ _and floods with pleasure and pain and love and it's like the ocean has come up to engulf me, I momentarily can't breathe because I'm drowning in all the sensation, but I surrender into *_ _that*_ _as well instead of struggling out of it, and all I see is you, all I feel is you, and waves of orgasm spasm through me, making me shake, making the oddest incoherent sounds come out of my mouth, and that's it, I *_ _have*_ _dissolved into the ocean, I have exploded, there is no more Jim Moriarty, I'm one with the fucking cosmos, one with you, because you are the universe, the only bit of it that really matters, anyway..._

 

 

I see you swept away by a tidal wave of an orgasm that pulls me with it... and I'm shouting incoherently as I'm feeling your body trembling violently, your sweet arse convulsing around my cock. My cock is twitching, pouring into you, my muscles are thrown into spasms against you. Then everything, everything becomes blackness... I'm thrown out into nothingness. And then one thought comes to me – Jim - and I'm pulled back hard. I've fallen against you, I couldn't hold myself up if I wanted to. I'm breathing so hard and fast, I'm almost hyperventilating. My face is pressed against yours. I can't speak. There are no words.

 

 

_I'm slowly becoming aware of my body again, which is being delightfully squashed by a Tiger. You have released my wrists and are gasping for dear life on top of me. You don't lie on top of me if you can help it - you're always afraid you're too heavy, which you're not - so you must have been just as swept away as I was, as I still am. I move my arms to hold you, around your neck so as not to hurt your back, hold you close; I love it when you lie prone on top of me like this, every bit of us touching, your pounding heart beating against mine. My own breath slowly, slowly calms as yours does, and I wish time would end right now._

 

 

I make an incoherent noise, as I feel your arms move around me. My cock twitches in you, and a spasm of intense pleasure moves through me. Mmm - aftershock. I let out a long breath. I lift my face from yours, and look at you. Your eyes are shining. It takes my breath away. "That was- you are so-" I try, then give up and rest my cheek against yours. "I love you," I murmur, and close my eyes.

 

 

_You look at me like you just had a religious experience and I'm god. I definitely was onto something when I said that. You shiver as your cock jerks inside me, lean your bristly cheek against mine, and once again hand me the greatest gift ever. "I love you too, Sebastian. I love you. I'll never tire of saying that - do you know how fucking magnificent that is?" I whisper._

 

 

My eyes open. "I think I have an idea, yeah..." I whisper against your cheek. "Like I ever thought ‘I love you’ was going to be a part of my life... especially from the only one who ever mattered..."

My arms seem to have regained some of their strength, and I slowly slide them around you. "I guess I should... move... but it'll take a moment," I say apologetically.

 

 

_"Never ever move... Just lie on top of me forever, until we melt together and occupy one body... we can become a new kind of starfish..."_

_That's it, the drink is definitely having its effect. A good thing I refused Mr Álvarez' 'purest MDMA, top of the range' - I don't need anything to get my mind even further out there._

_"I'm going to tell you I love you so often that you'll forget the time when I forgot to tell you," I nuzzle in your neck._

_I'm feeling absolutely great. The combination of the location, the company, the chemicals in my body - I burst out into Baudelaire:_

_"Il faut être toujours ivre. Tout est là: c'est l'unique question. Pour ne pas sentir l'horrible fardeau du Temps qui brise vos épaules et vous penche vers la terre, il faut vous enivrer sans trêve._

_Mais de quoi? De vin, de poésie ou de vertu, à votre guise. Mais enivrez-vous._

_Et si quelquefois, sur les marches d'un palais, sur l'herbe verte d'un fossé, dans la solitude morne de votre chambre, vous vous réveillez, l'ivresse déjà diminuée ou disparue, demandez au vent, à la vague, à l'étoile, à l'oiseau, à l'horloge, à tout ce qui fuit, à tout ce qui gémit, à tout ce qui roule, à tout ce qui chante, à tout ce qui parle, demandez quelle heure il est et le vent, la vague, l'étoile, l'oiseau, l'horloge, vous répondront: "Il est l'heure de s'enivrer! Pour n'être pas les esclaves martyrisés du Temps, enivrez-vous; enivrez-vous sans cesse! De vin, de poésie ou de vertu, à votre guise."_

_"Ou de tigre..." I smile._

 

 

"Tu es si charmant, mon amour," I murmur in your ear. "Je t'adore, Jim... je t'adore..." I laugh. "Well, I didn't expect our tequila and coke orgy to end with French poetry. And I would love to just lie on you and in you forever, but- maybe I should wash some of that tequila off my cock, if I want to use it again anytime soon. I don't think much can be done about your arse... I'm so sorry. Are you OK?" I pull back and look at you with concern.

_"I'll live... and it was bloody hot - in both senses of the word. And the image of you pouring tequila over yourself is definitely going into the wank bank," I grin. "Let's have a wash. And there should be some soothing cream in the first aid kit with chamomile and shit."_

 

 

"Outdoor shower?" I ask, with pleasure. "I don't know how we're ever going to return to 'civilization' after this..."

I start to pull out of you, scrunching up my face. "Oh... I'm definitely going to feel that for a while. Not that it would stop me. Let's see if chamomile and shit will make a difference. That would be a great name for an organic skin care line, if we ever want to branch out," I grin, and slowly move off you.

I look at you, already feeling bereft. "OK, I think I can get up, but - it feels wretched being in two bodies..." I stand and offer you my hand. You place your hand in mine. I pull you up, and against my chest. "I'm - feeling like I'll freak out if I can't touch you... Stick close to me - please..." I whisper.

 

_I laugh - "Yeah, fingers in more than one pie, always a good idea. 'Moriarty and Moran, Consulting Crime and Chamomile. Get rid of *_ _all*_ _your irritations.'”_

_I let myself be helped up by you, and you voice what I've been thinking. "I feel the same, Seb - it's like all that talk about one's 'other half' is not just some romantic metaphor. It must be why we want to be inside each other all the time - the closest we get. I wonder if we get to merge together again after death..."_

_We walk to the shower on the patio, cuddling close together, and you start up the shower, arrange the temperature, and pull me close underneath it._

 

 

The warm water is pouring down over us, under the starry sky. It feels like a cocoon where I can confess anything. I don't know if this is the right time - I should probably wait. Please, Seb - just wait. But I'm so afraid, and I can't stop myself.

"Jim-" "I start, then stop. I pull back and you look at me, expectantly.

"Jim, I- " I look at you pleadingly, and concern crosses your face. "Today has been so beautiful, so perfect... and I'm fucking terrified to lose it. What if something happens to you? I'm afraid to even go to sleep... what if this is a dream? Could this be a dream?? What if I'm crazy and you're just _dead_??"

I close my eyes, my heart pounding. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be talking about this! I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, I swear I'm not... but how do I know this is real??"

 

 

_"No, Tiger, please, do talk about it... I know you're not trying to make me feel guilty. I don't know - I feel the same, I feel every time we go to sleep that I'll wake up in fucking Tuscany on my own again, and it must be so much worse for you, because I at least knew you were alive..."_

_I scanned the London papers obsessively looking for traces of your work, proof of your demise, grateful every time I saw evidence of what could only be you..._

_"How can we ever know anything is real? Philosophers have debated about that for centuries. But - ask yourself - if this were a dream, would your cock hurt?"_

 

 

I laugh out loud, and tears that had been threatening to spill, are springing to my eyes. "No...?" My hand brushes against it, and I flinch. "It's... really fucking uncomfortable," I say, with relief. I laugh again. "Ok, well... that's something, I guess. Thank Christ for tequila, and bad fucking judgement."

 

 

 _"And as for anything happening to me - well, I'm dead, which puts me at much less of a risk than I ever was. I'm also somewhere on the end of the world where no one knows us. And I've got the best bodyguard on the planet. I mean, you were good when you were protecting your employer, you were excellent when you were protecting the man you were in love with, how are you going to be when you're protecting your *_ _husband*_ _?! No one is going to even come close to thinking about doing anything to me. Or you," I add, fire flashing in my eyes, "because I *_ _will*_ _upholster our sofa with the skins of anyone who so much as bumps into you."_

 

 

I grin at you, still teary. "Aww... thanks, babe. I love it when you get homicidal. To think of you getting all murdery for me..." I pull you into a hug, and sigh deeply. "... makes me very happy. I must be certifiable. But then I'm in good company, my beloved criminal psychopath."

 

 

_"Murdering people is a perfectly good way to show love. I mean - if I were a painter, I'd paint nothing but your beautiful face in all the different lights of the day. If I were a poet or a musician, I'd wax lyrically about you. Instead, I'm a killer - so I kill for you. Often and good. Oh and of course I'm a fucker too, as you like to remind me... big fucker."_

_I grab some soap that claims that it rejuvenates and soothes the skin, and start washing you with it, lovingly tracing my fingers over every bit of your body._

 

 

I laugh. There are still tears in my eyes, but my spirits are lifting. "That's fucking beautiful, babe." I bite my lip as I feel your hands on me, lathering me gently. "It's weird that everyone doesn't feel this way. Isn't it? I mean it makes perfect fucking sense to me... but I guess most people would think we were the odd ducks? I'd kill someone right now for you, if I could. Who knows... maybe we'll have the opportunity while we're here." I laugh out loud. "We're demented, you know that? And I really don't fucking care... as long as I have you, baby."

I kiss your palm lovingly, and hold it to my heart.

 

 

_"Let's not quite kill anyone right this minute," I smile. "We're in the middle of nowhere and though I know Mr  Álvarez said he could get us pretty boys, I do suspect he meant to pick them up again afterwards and have them sit in the passenger seat instead of in a bag in the trunk. But I can't deny that the thought of you killing someone is... intriguing... oh well we have plenty of time. And I'd prefer to kill some fat cat rather than one of Mr Álvarez' pretty boys. They've got a fucked up enough life as it is." I wash carefully around the waterproof plasters, wash your cock, which does feel a bit raw, kneel down to wash your legs and feet._

 

 

I close my eyes, as I feel you washing me... Holy shit... I want to drop my knees in front of you, but I stop myself. I'm not used to this kind of attention from you, unless I'm wounded.

"No... let's leave the pretty boys alone. I'm not looking to be some kind of sexual predator serial killer. I just want to kill fuckers who have it coming... including the ones who have the fucking gall to think they could take you away from me." I open my eyes and they narrow into slits. Then I look down at you, and I soften. I kneel down, and take the soap from you. "Let me do you now, babe..."

 

 

_I smile - I wondered how long you would allow me to sit on my knees in front of you. It must have made you uncomfortable._

_"No one could ever take me away from you, my dear," I say as I hand you the soap. Sitting on this floor is not the most comfortable - they should really make shower floors out of rubber tiles; it would probably reduce the number of slips and falls too - so I get up and help you get up too, then lean my head against you as you soap my back and shoulders._

 

 

This feels so good... gently rubbing every bit of you. I fall into a bit of a trance, and reacquaint myself with every inch of your beautiful porcelain skin. The soap is fragrant, and the sky is vast and luminous above us. We murmur to each other as I finish washing you, and as we towel each other off. The air is velvety soft against our skin as we slowly walk back to the patio, arms around each other.

"Well?" I ask, pulling your shoulder against mine, and kissing your neck. "Do you want to stay out any longer, or should we go to bed?"

 

 

_I am a bit tired, but nothing that a new line wouldn't sort out. And I had kind of anticipated watching the sun rise over the sea with you. "It's our wedding party. Let's make it last all night," I say._

 

 

I grin at you. "Sounds fucking perfect. More blow, dearest?"

 

 

_"Yes thank you, honey pie," I grin, sitting down next to you, our legs and hips touching. You're right, we can't stop touching - it feels wrong, exposed, raw, vulnerable, bereft. I wonder... this isn't a permanent thing, right? I mean, people are used to me not going anywhere without you, but us constantly holding hands may raise eyebrows..._

_I take two new lines and hand the mirror to you, leaning back, gazing at the stars... oh, wonderful. God, I love coke. Which is why I never do it, normally. But if you can't do coke on your own wedding orgy, when can you..._

 

 

I snort a couple of lines, and euphoria floods my system. " _Fuck me_ , that's good shit," I crow. "It's good we don't do this that often," I say wistfully. "But it feels really fucking good tonight. Maybe we should do it for anniversaries, huh sweetie pie?" I nudge your shoulder. "Or full moons, if the mood should strike?"

 

 

_"We can't do full moons, that's when you turn into a werewolf, and I into a vampire, and we go out hunting for blood... You make the kill, pouncing on the unsuspecting prey, I gorge myself on the fresh blood as you devour the flesh, and then I fuck you as I suck your neck and you howl your pleasure onto the moon... But anniversaries, yeah. Let's have one in a different country every year."_

 

 

"What a couple of bloodthirsty monsters we are... when we're not being weepy sweethearts..." I kiss your ear. "Oooh. I like that. If it's a different country every year, we don't have to worry about what kind of chaos we leave in our wake," I wink at you. "Only joking. Sort of... you never know with us."

 

 

 _"We've been the perfect house guests so far, I'm sure Mr Álvarez would agree," I protest. "I mean, we've only been here for half a day, but we haven't broken anything, have only got a *_ _few*_ _blood stains on the chairs, and given him a *_ _lot*_ _of pesos." I stroke your hair, it's so *_ _soft*_ _, and then your beard, which is scraggy - why is one hair soft and the other rough? Is it thickness? It must be thickness._

"Oh, Mr Álvarez... we need to leave him a big tip when we go, or maybe a nice present." I nuzzle your hand, as you stroke my hair and beard. You still haven't said anything... and I'm not about to bring it up. I kiss your lips. "Yes, perfect houseguests. If we kill anyone, it has to be off-site."

 

 

_You really should stop talking about killing. It’s making me twitchy - and I remember why I don’t do coke often. One because I hate the idea of becoming addicted, but mostly because it makes me into even more of a homicidal maniac than I already am, and that’s not the effect I was going for tonight._

_But... I do fucking love killing. It’s like fucking - except the other side of the coin. One’s life, one’s death, and both make you feel like god._

 

 

A dark look passes over your face, and it's gone in an instant. But you do seem less relaxed. Hmm. Maybe we'll cool it with the coke, Jim? And maybe I need do distract you from thoughts of violence....

I sigh. I really didn't want to do this.

I lean in towards you, smirking. "So I'm surprised you haven't said anything yet... I take it you like the beard?"

 

 

_"It's disgusting and it's coming off," I say curtly. "Just because I've been distracted doesn't mean I approve. You look like a tramp."_

 

 

My eyebrows shoot up. "Wow...Why don't you tell me how you really feel?"

 

 

_I feel irritable - too much coke in too little time. I get up to get another drink - something soothing, like fucking chamomile tea. I put ice cubes in a glass, pour Cointreau over it - "You want anything, fuzzface?"_

 

 

"Yeah... I want to go back to 5 minutes ago when everything was peachy..." I smile sweetly. "But if I can't have that, then I'll have what you're having... dumpling."

 

 

_I look at the glass with doubt. "It's horribly sweet - I thought you didn't like the sweet stuff." But you're right - I shouldn't bitch at you. I take you a glass of ice cubes. "There's some bottles of rum and tequila under the table, I think you'll prefer that. And - I'm sorry." It gets easier every time you say it, doesn't it? "I'm a bit on edge. But I shouldn't take it out on you. Too much coke, too little sleep, I guess. And you talking about killing - well. You know what coke does to me. But I don't want to kill you, or one of Mr Álvarez' pretty boys, so unless a handy shipwreck turns up, I'll have to suppress my murderous urges. Hey - wait. Let's do target practice."_

_I smile - that'll be fun. I suck at it but it never fails to delight me how you can shoot straight even if you are too pissed to write your own name._

 

 

I relax slightly. I was worried about a blow-out erupting, and I know it's inevitable, but hopefully we can have one full day with no meltdowns?

"Yeah, I'll have some rum. I'm mad at tequila, right now." I head to the table, and slosh some rum into my glass, and throw it back. "I think I was unconsciously just trying to take the pressure off being this perfect, amazing couple by telling you things don't have to totally change... we are who we are, right? But yes, let's channel our urges into some nice, relaxing target practice...I'll give myself a handicap." I tip the bottle of rum back into my mouth and drink deep.

 

 

_I grin at you, then dart indoors. There's an escritoire in the room that leads to the patio doors, and I take out some sheets of A4 and drawing pins. I am about to head upstairs to get your bag, when - you wouldn't –_

_I walk outside again. "Have you got a gun on you?"_

 

 

"Not _on_ me... but if you look behind the bar... just behind that bowl of limes... gun." I smile. "You never know, right?"

 

 

_I snigger. Trust you._

_"Yes, *_ _on*_ _you would be admirable, even for you. I mean, I have done a thorough cavity search. But yes, this will do nicely."_

_I take the gun from behind the bowl of limes, cunningly hidden under a tea towel - I should have spotted it; I can't afford to let my guard down so much, not even here. I put it on the bar, then jog along the beach to the furthest palm tree, pin a sheet to it, and make my way back closer, pinning sheets along the way. When I'm back, the bottle of rum is half empty, and I smile. "Let's start with the nearest one, shall we?" I hand you the gun._

I take the gun, twirl it and wink at you. Quickly I take aim and shoot. "Easy-peasy, babe."

 

 

 _How do you_ _*do*_ _that? You get drunk like normal people, but the moment you get a gun in your hand your hand is steady as a rock._

_"Not really a challenge - what about that one in the middle distance? The... fifth one?"_

 

 

Obligingly, I point the gun - then remember to take a swig of rum first. Aim... fire. "Celebration dance," I crow, swaying to the music, and holding up the bottle of rum.

 

 

_"OK, OK, the one down the back," I point._

 

 

I peer in the distance. "Oh, it's so far, Jim... idunno if I can-" _aim, crack_ "oh, never mind..."

 

 

_"Oh, you *_ _fucker*_ _," I grin, and pounce you. "You're a fucking magician. Think you can do the coin trick?"_

 

 

"Don't know, babe- I've had a lot to drink, and some-" I look around. " _Illicit drugs_ ," I whisper. "I'm really not on top of my game..."

 

 

_Silly Mexican coins are all the same size. I move a few steps back, throw one up in the air. I can't even see the bloody thing, but I hear a bang, and when it drops - a hole straight through it._

_I take a step back, toss another one._

 

 

Aim. Fire. Aim. Fire. You're cackling with each shot fired, each coin retrieved. "Not that I'm not having fun, but aren't the police eventually going to be called about gunfire?" I ask, snickering. _Crack_

 

 

_"Not over here," I grin, throwing up my empty hands. "I'm out of coins. You've blown my stash."_

_I walk up to you, kiss you. "Fuck, Tiger, you're bloody amazing. I'm not even going to try."_

_I don't have your uncanny ability to shoot straight even when you're falling-down drunk. I could *_ _suppress*_ _my drunkenness and force myself to be alert, but that would be no fun - it'd make me feel like I'd had two hours of sleep and fifteen cups of coffee. Handy in an emergency, not in an orgy. I drop down on the chair, take my drink. Notice you've nearly finished that bottle of rum._

I mime tipping my hat to you. Well, you're grinning like a loon - you seem to have forgotten about your dark mood and the beard. Meltdown averted.

Satisfied, I drop into the chair next to you, stretch out my legs. "God... we've barely worn clothes since we got here. I could get used to this..." I smile at you, slyly.

 

 

 _"*_ _You*_ _could. I have sunburn in unexpected places," I complain, rolling onto my side, putting one leg over yours, snuggling up to your arm until you put it around me and pull me close._

_For a long time, we just lie there, looking at the stars, the moon, the sea; the waves rolling endlessly, the music gently in the background. We occasionally sip our drinks or top them up from the bottles in the sand, but mostly just lie, enjoying the glow of each other's body._

 

 

"I'm looking forward to sleeping in that bed with you..." I whisper, kissing your ear. "I know we had a nap earlier, but - that was before-" I gestured at the beach. "All this. Everything... It's been such a special night. Thank you for putting it all together, baby..." I kiss you softly on the lips.

"The first day of our honeymoon has been... out of this world. I love you, my sweet little fucker. For always..."

 

 

_"Sweet little fucker?" I smile. I'd been nearly drifting off. The eastern horizon is paling, and I'm getting a bit chilly with the sea breeze, despite your body heat._

_"Let's go in - see if we can crawl close enough in the gigantic bed that we don't have to shout to hear each other. It's been... wow. It's been an incredible... two days? Damn, Seb. You'll make me grey before my time," I grin. You look at me, your eyes once again gaining their blue hue with the returning light, and looking every bit as deep as the sea stretching out to meet the rising sun._

_I lift up my head, kiss your lips._ _"Thank you for the best wedding party I've ever attended... Mr Moriarty," I smile._

 

  
  
\-----------------  End of Book 2 ----------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist:  
> Misirlou- Dick Dale & His Del-Tones  
> Reach the Rock- Havana 3 A.M.  
> Somebody - Depeche Mode  
> Charlie - Red Hot Chili Peppers
> 
>  
> 
> If you enjoyed Unholy Union, be sure to check out the next book in the Symbiotic Criminal Psychopaths series: Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, which continues the day after the orgy...  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/15368880/chapters/35663262


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